


Forgotten

by Magz (sparklepocalypse)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bodice-Ripper, F/M, I can't believe Bodice-Ripper is a tag, That's amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-11
Updated: 2002-03-19
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepocalypse/pseuds/Magz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?</p><p>This is the Big Giant Spike/Buffy Bodice Ripper. There are actual heaving bosoms, and manly removals of corsets. Ohhh yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrangement

_1735\. Early Summer._

"My William," the pale, beautiful woman said as she spun around before the fireplace, "Shall we have a picnic today?"

Twenty-two year old William Bradley looked up at his wife of three years, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered. "Lovely idea, pet."

"I will have the cook pack us a basket," she stated, walking gracefully over to him and kissing him softly. "I love you."

"Mm," he replied contently. "I love you too, sweets." He watched as she floated ethereally from the room, a happy little sigh escaping him.

He sat back in his chair, his hands brushing through his short, dark curls. He had loved Drusilla Fairchild from the moment he had laid eyes on her, and she had been enamored of him since their first dance at the ball where they'd met. His younger brother, Daniel, constantly teased him for being so smitten with the woman he'd married, but he brushed it off.

Drusilla returned to the study. "The stable is readying Miss Edith and Black Lightning for us," she said, strolling over to him and settling in his lap. She leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Our picnic shall be the best we've had."

Ten minutes later they were riding along the hard dirt path that led to their favorite picnic spot, a secluded grove at the edge of the woods. "I would like to have a party," Drusilla declared.

"And what would we be celebrating?" William asked.

"Why, summer of course!" she replied as if he should've known the answer.

William shifted his grip on the wicker picnic basket. "Of course," he said, his ever-present smile in full effect. "When would you like to have the party?"

"I should think two weeks would be enough time to prepare, wouldn't you? I have a beautiful new gown that I'd like to wear, and you will look dashing as always," she said, smiling. She wiggled a bit in the sidesaddle, trying to get more comfortable.

"As always," he repeated grinning. "I suppose you think I'd look dashing covered in mud and other less... appealing substances."

"Of course." She fluttered her eyelashes innocently. "Why, it is my duty as a good wife to always think you look dashing."

They'd arrived at the entrance to the woods, and slowed their mounts. "Nearly there now," William said.

Miss Edith, Drusilla's chestnut mare, suddenly sidestepped and snorted. "Oh dear, something seems to be giving her a fright," Drusilla fretted as the horse pawed the ground. William checked out Black Lightning, who seemed perfectly calm, then looked at Miss Edith, who was now even more nervous than before.

"Try to calm her," William suggested.

Drusilla nodded. "It's alright," she cooed to her horse, petting her mane. "Shh now, it's alright - no, Miss Edith...!" she exclaimed as the mare bolted in the direction they'd come from. "William!" Drusilla shrieked, terrified. "Help me!" The chestnut mare disappeared around a corner, her passenger clinging to her for dear life.

Panicked, William dropped the basket and urged Black Lightning into a gallop, his eyes wide as he frantically searched for Drusilla. He raced back across the meadow, a cloud of dust billowing up behind him as his stallion's hooves beat against the dirt path.

Just over the crest of a grassy knoll, he got a glimpse of white. He pulled up on the reins hard, and Black Lightning skidded to a halt. The frantic man leapt from atop his horse, breaking into a run and sprinting over to his fallen wife. He stopped abruptly a short distance away from her. His eyes were wide and filled with tears, his mouth agape as he stared at Drusilla.

She looked like she was sleeping.

He dropped to his knees, doubling over as a searing jolt of pain ripped up his spine. "No!" he screamed hoarsely as the tears that had been brimming overflowed. He dragged himself over to her.

Her skin had already taken on a bluish hue when he gathered her body close, sobbing raggedly. "Dru..." he pleaded, kissing her temple and forehead. "Don't leave me... please, don't leave me..." He stared blindly beyond her as he wept bitterly. With blurred vision, he noticed Miss Edith calmly grazing down the hill. He clutched his wife's still form to his chest, anguish overcoming him.

* * *

  
_1742\. Midwinter._

The dark-haired man strode purposely forward, having nearly leapt from the coach that had carried him back to his family's home. He unfastened the leather strap that held back his unruly brown locks, running a hand through them restlessly. His temper was severe as he stormed through the front door of the manor, slamming it behind him and racing up the stairs toward his chambers.

He immediately loosened his cravat and waistcoat, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and kicking off his expensive leather shoes. "Marriage," he grumbled, his stormy blue eyes gazing out the window, where raindrops began to spatter against the glass.

_I, Rupert Giles, bequeath the entirety of my state to nephew, William Bradley, upon the day of his second wedding... If he does not succeed in finding a wife within three months of my passing, the estate shall go to his younger brother, Daniel..._

So it seemed that William, who had sworn off all serious relationships with women the day of his precious Drusilla's burial, would once again have to find himself a bride. Daniel had expressed no interested in managing the estate, and had flat-out encouraged William to pursue a bride and secure their uncle's holdings. William pitied the woman that would wed him, for theirs would be a loveless marriage. He couldn't allow himself to fall again.

It was this search for a bride that led him to the home of Sir Henry Winterton, whose daughters were renowned for their beauty and dispositions. He'd written the man in the hopes of securing the hand of a comely girl who would not disgust him overly much when he bedded her, and had received an invitation to visit the Wintertons' London home so that he could select the daughter he wished to marry.

He stood before the stone house, brushing snowflakes off the top of his head before knocking firmly. He introduced himself to the butler. "Lord William Bradley," he pronounced.

The butler stepped aside to let him into the house. William shrugged out of his black woolen greatcoat, handing it to the butler, who disappeared into a coatroom off to the side of the entryway for a moment. He returned. "Sir Henry will see you now," he said, leading the way down a long corridor. At the end of the hall was a library whose doors stood open. William entered, noting a roaring fire in the fireplace before coming face-to-face with the man who would provide him with his second wife.

"Lord William," Henry said by way of greeting. "May I offer you an aperitif?" The older, dirty-blonde man stepped toward a carafe filled about halfway with the amber liquid.

William raised a hand slightly. "No thank you," he declined. "I'd like to speak to you about marriage to one of your daughters. I... trust that's the reason you invited me here."

Sir Henry nodded. "Won't you sit down?" he offered, gesturing to a fine leather chair. William lowered his body carefully to the chair, and Henry settled into a matching chair across from his young guest. "I've arranged for a supper for the seven of us this evening, where you can meet my daughters and begin to make your selection."

"Seven, Sir?" William asked.

"My wife will be joining us as well. In the meantime, we've prepared a room for you, and Harrington will show you if you'd like to retire for awhile." The older man smiled good-naturedly.

"The trip was quite long," William admitted. "I think perhaps it would hurt nobody if I were to rest for awhile."

"Harrington," Sir Henry called. "Please escort Lord Bradley to his room," he stated.

Harrington nodded. "Yes sir," he said. "If you'll follow me," he said to William.

* * *

  
A brown-haired girl raced down the corridor, stumbling to a halt in front of one door. It was open a bit, so she poked her head in. "Elizabeth," she said excitedly, entering the room. "Elizabeth, I just saw the most handsome man on Earth."

"You said that yesterday when you saw Sir David," Elizabeth replied, her eyes never leaving the novel she held open in her lap.

"But this time it's really _true_!" the brunette gushed, flopping back onto the bed. "He's absolutely _beautiful_. He's got dark brown curls, and the most intriguing blue eyes I've ever seen, and he _looked at me_."

"And where is this _beautiful_ man, Diana?" Elizabeth asked, sliding a bookmark between the pages of her novel and setting it down. She brushed a blonde lock of hair out of her face. "I suppose he's in our house right now."

"Yes, he is!" Diana squealed. "Oh, I do hope he's Lord Bradley. Father said he's looking for a bride."

"Nonsense," Elizabeth said. "Father said Lord Bradley is a widower. No widower looks like the man you just described. From the way you tell it, he could be one of the Olympian Gods."

"I wonder if he'll choose me...?" Diana mused dreamily. "He's so very handsome, and he _must_ be charming, and intelligent, and artistic, and - "

"Diana," Elizabeth interjected, "you're only fifteen years old. Not nearly marrying age."

"What do you know? You're twenty-four. Old enough to have been married for _years_ , and yet here you sit, unmarried and unwilling to court any of your suitors," Diana retorted.

"I've told you, I wish to marry for love. Not for how much of an impression he makes on my _family_. I'll wed, when I've found him."

Diana stood, placing her hands on her hips. She raised her voice slightly. "This _him_ that you speak of might not exist, Elizabeth. You'd do better to marry one of the men who want you now, before you become old and waspish. It's true that you're the most beautiful of the four of us, but you're also the most discriminating."

Elizabeth scowled at her sister. "That's not true," she grumbled.

"Yes, it is," Diana replied. She assumed a haughty pose. "Too thin," she said disdainfully, staring at an invisible man. "Too old. Too simpleminded... would you like me to continue?"

"That's quite alright," Elizabeth said. "Now I'd like to return to my reading, so if you'd please leave..."

Diana sighed. "You'll never be happy," she lamented as she left.

* * *

  
"May I present my daughters," Sir Henry said as the four girls filed one by one into the room. "Diana," he said as the brown-haired girl entered the room, curtsying when she stood before William. Her knees buckled when he smiled at her again. "Florence," he called, and a dark, exotic girl who smirked at him before flouncing toward one of the chairs at the dining table. "Winnie." A pale girl with striking red hair entered the room, smiling giddily at the handsome stranger. But it was the fourth daughter, who strode into the room with a slight scowl marring her face, that drew his attention away from the others. "Elizabeth," Sir Henry said.

"She is truly a rare beauty," William marveled. He bent, lifting Elizabeth's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

Elizabeth's scowl faded away as warmth shot up her arm from the contact of his mouth to her skin. Her eyes widened slightly, and she quickly tugged her hand from his grasp.

"A pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth," the dark-haired stranger murmured. He turned to Sir Henry. "This one would look good on my arm. How old is she?"

"I will be twenty-four this summer," she said, the scowl having reappeared. "And I thank you for your interest, but I do not wish to wed. When I do marry, I will do so for love."

" _Love_?" Sir Henry scoffed. "What a ridiculous notion. Why, your mother and I didn't marry for love, yet we still have four beautiful daughters and a great fortune. Love matters not."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. He'd never fought her in her quest to find true love before. "Although I suppose the final decision is not mine, but yours dear father, I'd hoped I would at least be allowed to suggest a choice to you."

"No decisions have been made, Elizabeth. Please sit down so we can enjoy our meal."

And it was true that no decisions had been made, but after the meal had ended and Elizabeth had excused herself, stalking from the room stiffly, Sir Henry turned to Lord William, a scheming twinkle in his eye. "You wish to marry my daughter Elizabeth?" he asked.

William nodded. He'd been unable to tear his gaze from her throughout the entire meal, drinking in her features like a man half-starved. He'd watched her walk from the room, barely hearing his host's question. He shook his head slightly. "Yes," he replied.

"Then it shall be so."

* * *

  
The opulent Bradley Manor, whose grounds stretched as far as the eye could see, struck the average observer speechless. But as the row of carriages which carried Elizabeth and her generous dowry rumbled through the wrought-iron gates and up the cobblestone drive, all she could see was a prison. She wrapped her arms about herself, the frigid winter weather doing nothing to warm her countenance.

The coach rocked slightly as it bumped over the road, causing her to tip back and forth slightly. Her normally warm hazel eyes were cold and blank as she took in what was to be her new home.

"You might as well cheer up," William said from his seat beside her, where he'd watched his depressed bride throughout the duration of their trip. "I've given you two days to prepare yourself for the wedding. I trust you don't wish to have a large ceremony."

Elizabeth turned her cold eyes on him. "What I _wish_ ," she spat, "is to be as far from you as possible. I wanted nothing of this marriage."

"That isn't an option, I'm afraid," he replied. The carriage glided to a stop and he stood. "Allow me to help you out," he offered.

The blonde brushed past him, taking the proffered hand of the coachman and stepping quickly from the carriage. "Thank you," she said brusquely, striding up to the front door of the manor. A stout, elderly woman in grey immediately opened the door.

"Oh dear, you look chilled to the bone. Come in, come in and have a nice, hot, cup of tea." The woman took Elizabeth's shawl from her and led her down a corridor, pushing through a swinging door into a large, warm kitchen.

William burst through the door a moment later, his cheeks reddened from the cold. "Evening, Margaret," he greeted, slumping onto a bench at the rough-hewn table in the middle of the kitchen.

"Lord William, how was the trip?" Margaret asked as she busied herself over the stove, heating the water for Elizabeth's tea and stirring the contents of a small metal pot.

"Long," he sighed. "But I hope," he said, his eyes moving smoothly over Elizabeth's form, "that it will have been a profitable one."

The old woman clucked her tongue. "You'll know soon enough," she said, busily stirring away at the contents of the pot.

Soon the water was boiling and the unknown fluid in the pot was bubbling away. Margaret prepared the tea, then poured the liquid from the pot into a teacup. She handed the bone china containers to Elizabeth and William, who took them gratefully in their cold hands.

"How is it today, milord?" the elderly woman asked eagerly.

William sipped at his hot chocolate, which had been made with the same recipe that he'd first grown to love as a young boy. "Excellent as always, Margaret. You truly have a gift."

"And your tea?" Margaret asked Elizabeth.

"It's very good," the blonde woman said quietly, staring into the brown-gold liquid. "Thank you." The engaged couple sat silently, draining their cups slowly.

A few minutes passed and Elizabeth set her empty teacup down in the saucer. "My goodness, it's dark outside. I believe I shall retire."

"Should I show you to your room?" Margaret asked, walking over to the weary-looking blonde as she stood.

"Yes, thank you," Elizabeth said, leaving the room and her husband-to-be behind.


	2. Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?

Elizabeth stared out a large window onto the monochromatic landscape. Her expression was distant and she twisted a small piece of edging on her mossy-green gown as she took in the manor grounds.  
  
"He won't hurt you."  
  
The masculine voice startled her, and she gasped slightly as she turned to face the person who had intruded her thoughts. She took in a red-haired man of about twenty-five, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. One fine, blond eyebrow arched.  
  
The man spoke again. "He might never love you, but he'll see to it that you're well taken care of." Noting her confusion, his smile grew slightly wider. "My name is Daniel. Will is my older brother. And you must be my new sister."  
  
"I am Elizabeth Winterton," the blonde said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Daniel. And I am not your sister yet."  
  
"But you may as well be," he replied with a wry smile. "And you  _will_  be my sister, by law, in less than two days' time."  
  
 _My last two days of freedom,_  she lamented internally. "I have no wish to wed your brother," she said.  
  
"You are forced into this union?" he asked concernedly.  
  
"I am... vigorously persuaded into it," Elizabeth returned with a small frown. "Your home is very beautiful," she said, hoping to change the subject.  
  
"Perhaps one day you will view it as your own home as well," Daniel said gently.   
  
"As long as I am a prisoner here, it could never be my home." She turned, staring out the window again. A small, sharp laugh escaped her throat. "Love matters not," she murmured.  
  


* * *

  
  
A brown paper-covered box landed at Elizabeth's feet as she stood next to her armoire. She looked up to see Lord William standing in the doorway of her room. "It was my mother's," he said quietly. "I will send someone to help you into it." He left as silently as he had approached, disappearing down the hallway.  
  
Elizabeth warily picked up the box, untying the white cord that held the paper wrapping closed. She placed the box on her bed, pulled aside the paper, and lifted the lid. Inside lay a cream-white gown of the finest silk, with lace edging and a smattering of pearls. She took up the gown, admiring it.  
  
A knock sounded at the doorframe. "Milady," a timid female voice said. "Lord William sent me up here for you."  
  
The blonde glanced toward the door. "Come in," she said. The girl with mousy-brown hair entered the room, closing the door behind her. Elizabeth held the gown up. "It's very beautiful," she murmured. She turned to the girl again. "What is your name?"  
  
"Tara, milady." Her gaze dropped to the floor.  
  
"Tara? Unusual name," Elizabeth mused. "I like it. Could you help me put the gown on, Tara?"  
  
The girl nodded, and Elizabeth unlaced the mossy-green confection she was wearing, pulling it off her shoulders and stepping out of it. Now clad in her front-lacing corset and a linen shift, she picked up the wedding gown again. She pulled it up her legs and slid her arms into the sleeves, then turned her back on Tara and allowed her to fasten the row of tiny pearl buttons that were placed up the back.  
  
Tara made quick work of the buttons, and Elizabeth stepped toward her mirror. "Oh, it  _is_  lovely," she whispered. "I hadn't thought it would fit quite so well." She turned around. "What do you think?"  
  
"It's a very nice dress," Tara replied.  
  
"Perhaps we need a male opinion, just to make sure," Elizabeth suggested. "Is Daniel about?"  
  
"Not Lord William?"  
  
Elizabeth laughed, though it did not reach her eyes. "I may not be the most enthusiastic bride," she said, "but I do remember that it's bad luck for a groom to see his wife-to-be in her wedding finery before they are married."  
  
"I shall fetch master Daniel then," Tara said, hurrying from the room.  
  
Elizabeth continued to admire herself in the mirror until Tara arrived with Daniel. "Do you like it?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
"It matters not what I think of it, but what Will's reaction will be," Daniel said. "And I think he will be awestruck by your radiance."  
  
Elizabeth blushed. "That is no way to speak to your sister," she chided.  
  
"So you have decided you will become my sister, then," Daniel said happily.  
  
She shook her head. "More like, I've resigned myself to that fact," she replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, my dear near-brother, I'd like Tara to help me out of this."  
  
Daniel smiled and nodded, then left, the latch of the door clicking shut behind him. "He's very charming," Elizabeth said as she braced herself with one arm against the wall, while Tara unfastened the dozens of buttons. "I do hope that once I'm settled in I can find him a good match."  
  
Tara finished unbuttoning her gown faster than she'd closed it up, and Elizabeth took it off, placing it back in the box. She smoothed one hand over the silk once more, then reached for her other gown, which she quickly put on.  
  
"I believe I shall go exploring. This will, after all, be my home." The last words held a hint of weariness. She shook it off, flouncing from the room.   
  
Within a half-hour, she'd discovered a large library, and one of the servants - who'd possibly been following her the entire time - had built a roaring fire in the fireplace. She plucked a book from one of the shelves, then pulled a chair up close to the fire and sat down to read.  
  
The warmth of the fire, however, made her tired, and her hands soon fell limp in her lap, book forgotten, as she dozed off. She was sleeping peacefully when William found her. One of the servants had told him where she was, and he'd brought a tea tray with him, setting it down on a side table when he entered the room.  
  
He gazed at her for a long while as she sat, curled in the chair before the fire, one hand still atop the book. She stirred slightly, a small mumble escaping her lips as she slept. Realizing his actions, William shook himself slightly and cleared his throat.  
  
Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open and she stretched, then stood to face him. She tilted her head, waiting for him to speak. "What is it, Lord William?" she asked finally.  
  
His throat worked spasmodically and he cleared it again. "I... erm..." his gaze shot to the nearly forgotten tea tray. "Tea?" he asked weakly.  
  
She nodded. "Two lumps, please."  
  
He put the sugar cubes into her cup, filled it, then poured himself a cup as well. The fine, bone china cups clattered slightly in their saucers as his trembling hands held them, and he cursed himself for being as nervous as a schoolboy with his first woman when he was around her. He handed Elizabeth the cup and she allowed it to warm her hands.  
  
"I want to thank you," she said, "for the beautiful gown. It fits me perfectly."  
  
"I thought it - " he cut himself off, his gaze dropping to his tea. "Think nothing of it," he said gruffly. "Every bride, no matter how unwilling, deserves to look their best."  
  
A slightly tense silence fell upon them, broken only by the sounds of china against china. "Is there a skating pond on the grounds?" Elizabeth asked suddenly, desperate to break the tension.  
  
William's head shot up in surprise. "There is," he replied, "but nobody's used it since I was a young boy. Do you ice skate?"  
  
She smiled. "It is one of my most favorite winter activities."  
  
Later, he would wonder why he was so eager to please her. "Then we shall go skating," he decreed. "Though I must admit, I am sorely out of practice."  
  


* * *

  
  
"You know, you're not as horrible as I thought you were," Elizabeth called from across the pond. She looked laughingly on as William wobbled slightly on his skates. "I think, perhaps under different circumstances, that we could've been friends."  
  
"Horrible?" William exclaimed, turning to face her. The quick motion sent him sprawling onto the ice with a shout. He pouted as she skated closer to him. "I'm not horrible," he said petulantly.  
  
Elizabeth offered him a hand and he grasped it firmly, scrambling to his feet. "Perhaps not. Arrogant, definitely." With that said, she was off like a shot, racing to the other side again.  
  
He chased carefully after her, hoping not to fall, and skidded to a halt before her. "When have I ever been arrogant?" he demanded.  
  
She cleared her throat. "This one will look good on my arm," she mocked in a deep voice. "You can't possibly deny the arrogance in that."  
  
He gaped at her for a moment. "That wasn't arrogance," William said finally. "That was truth." He looped his arm through hers. "You  _do_  look good on my arm." She leaned into him slightly, and he abruptly pulled away, causing her to lose her balance and thump down onto the ice. She rose to her feet, skating away from him and brushing herself off.  
  
"Why haven't you skated here in so long?" she called as she glided smoothly across the ice. She circled the pond and then started skating in a tight ring around William.  
  
"Do you see this?" he asked, the tip of one long finger coming to rest just to the side of a wicked-looking scar on his left eyebrow. She nodded and he continued. "When I was six, my father and I were out here. I fell and slid across the ice, colliding with the blade of his skate. He forbade me to come out her again, he was so worried that I would put an eye out."  
  
Ice flakes sprayed at her feet as she stopped. She pulled off one glove. "Can I...?" She trailed off, reaching up slowly. When he didn't move away, her cool fingertips brushed over his scarred brow. He flinched slightly, but quickly relaxed. "Did it hurt much?" she asked as she took her hand away and put her glove back on.  
  
William kicked himself internally as he stifled the tiny whimper that had bubbled up in his throat at the loss of contact. He nodded, tearing his gaze from her face, and focused on a large, leafless tree behind her. "Nearly fainted dead away when it happened. Gave my father quite a fright, too." He pursed his lips. "But this is not a subject that a lady should hear about," he said sternly. "Especially if she is to become the new Lady Bradley." He frowned when all emotion seemed to leave her face at the mention of their arranged marriage.  
  
"I think you will find, Lord William, that I am more than capable of hearing about such subjects," Elizabeth said coolly. She prepared to skate away again, but he grasped her arm.  
  
"Elizabeth," he said, and she closed her eyes against the traitorous little part of her that allowed the delicious shudder that coursed up her spine at the sound of her name on his lips. "I am sorry if I offended you. I don't wish for you to hate me." He scanned her face. "I know that being here upsets you, but I truly hope that we can become friends, despite poor circumstance."  
  
"You would be  _friends_  with your wife?" Elizabeth asked, slightly incredulous.  
  
William's mind suddenly flooded with images of Drusilla. "I cannot offer you more than friendship," he said quietly as his late wife's sparkling eyes and soft laughter filled his head.  
  


* * *

  
  
"You do this often, I see," Daniel chuckled as he entered the parlor, where Elizabeth was once again staring out the window.  
  
"I am imagining the grounds in spring. I should like to explore them on horseback," Elizabeth mused.  
  
"That is not likely."  
  
Elizabeth turned to face Daniel. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Let us take a walk," Daniel said. "I'd like to tell you a story."  
  
They left the parlor, strolling down the hall in the west wing, where Daniel knew William wouldn't appear. "You have heard that Will is a widower, I assume?"  
  
Elizabeth nodded.  
  
"He and Drusilla fell in love the moment they first laid eyes upon one another. Their courtship was one of the shortest on record - though yours is far shorter - and they were wed when Will was nineteen. I used to tease him about how smitten he was with her." He paused to glance at Elizabeth and make sure she was taking everything in.   
  
She nodded at him, motioning for him to continue.  
  
"They'd been married nearly three years. They went riding out one afternoon to have a picnic, and were nearly at their favorite picnic spot when Miss Edith - Drusilla's horse - bolted. Will chased after them as fast as Black Lightning would take him, but he was too late. It was nearly dark when we found him, trying desperately to awaken her."  
  
Elizabeth's face had gone pale. "How terrible," she whispered.  
  
"And that, dear sister," Daniel said, "is why my brother will never allow you near the stables."  
  
"Perhaps I will be taking many strolls this spring," the blonde said shakily. "Even if he never loves me, it could not be good for him to think he might lose another wife."  
  


* * *

  
  
As he walked by her open door, William peered in to see Elizabeth brushing her hair. Her curls hung loose and shining down her back as she ran the brush through them slowly. "Thirty-seven, thirty-eight..." she counted under her breath.   
  
"May I do that for you?" he asked shyly, his voice slightly hoarse.  
  
Elizabeth set the brush down, turning to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there were tiny reddened lines marring his face. He'd been crying, she realized. "Do you promise not to rip all my hair out?" she joked, motioning for him to come in.  
  
His face took on a haughty expression. "I'll have you know," he said crisply, "that my mother used to allow me this privilege daily." He strode forward and took the brush from the vanity, motioning for her to sit. When she was comfortably seated, he began to brush her golden locks with utmost care and gentleness.  
  
Her eyes closed as the pleasant tingle of someone else brushing her hair spread through her scalp. "It's been years since someone brushed my hair for me," Elizabeth said as his fingers lifted a few strands to work the brush through them.  
  
"My mother had hair like yours," he said. "Soft and shining. It's quite lovely."  
  
"Perhaps," Elizabeth suggested, "you will allow me an attempt to tame your wild mass of curls when you've finished with my hair."  
  
"Perhaps," he parroted, continuing to brush diligently. He cleared his throat. "Nearly done," he said. The brush passed through her hair a few more times. He stepped back, admiring the silky strands. "There," he murmured.  
  
"Thank you, Lord William," Elizabeth said. She stood. "Shall I try my hand at your hair now?"  
  
He smiled wryly. "I feel a bit silly," he said, "sitting at your vanity while you maneuver through the jungle on my head."  
  
Elizabeth glanced about the room. "It is the only seat available in here, I'm afraid." Her eyes lit on the bed and she turned quickly back to him. "Won't you sit down?"  
  
William did as she asked, and she untied the leather strap that held back his dark mane. She lifted the brush, then brought it back down onto his hair. On the first stroke down, the brush stuck fast in his hair and refused to come loose. Elizabeth laughed nervously.  
  
"What's the matter?" he asked.  
  
Her laughter became genuine. "The brush is stuck," she giggled.  
  
He turned and glowered at her, trying to look intimidating. One look at him with her mother of pearl-handled hairbrush stuck to the side of his head sent her into fits of laughter once more. "I'm sorry," she gasped between snickers. "I've just never seen a hairbrush get  _stuck_  before."  
  
"Well, get it out," he snapped irritably.  
  
With much effort and about ten minutes' worth of see-sawing the brush handle back and forth, she was finally able to loosen it enough that she could unravel his curls from around the bristles. "Perhaps your hair is too curly to tame," she said finally. Her eyes, which were green today, were dancing with mirth, and as William tied his hair back, the giggles burst out of her again.  
  
"I'm glad you find my discomfort so amusing," he grumbled.  
  
"Someone has to," she replied, placing the brush back onto the vanity. A little snicker burst forth every once in a while, but for the most part she'd calmed her laughter. "Truly, I am sorry, it was just so funny at the time."  
  
"I forgive you," he replied, his smile returning. "You see, it can be much easier for both of us if we are friends."  
  
Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Will you... that is..." she trailed off. "On our wedding night," she began again, "will you be expecting me to - "  
  
"Come to my bed?" he finished.  
  
She swallowed, her eyes wide, and nodded gravely.  
  
"I have no heir," he said simply. "Who will I leave all this to when I die?"  
  
"Daniel?" she suggested nervously. She did not like the way he was looking at her right now. She turned and gazed into her mirror.  
  
William came up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He spoke to her reflection. "Truly, after the first time it will not be terrible. I have heard that there is pain for a virgin, but I will attempt to ease it as much as possible." He turned to look at her now. "You may come to like it," he said huskily, and her brain registered feebly the moment before his mouth came in contact with her own that there was no way out of the situation.  
  
His kiss was feather-light and over before it had really begun. "Good night, Elizabeth," he murmured, leaving her standing in the middle of her room with her fingertips pressed to her mouth as if to hold the impression of his lips on hers permanently.   
  
It was a long time before she fell asleep that night.


	3. Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?

It was snowing when Elizabeth arose. She climbed from her bed and slung her cream-white dressing gown over her shift, then walked over to her vanity, her hair unbound, and picked up her hairbrush. She'd lifted the brush halfway to her head when a knock sounded at the door. The hairbrush was replaced on the vanity.

"Come in," she croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse. She cleared her throat. "Come in." She looked expectantly at the door, which opened several inches.

Tara poked her head into the room. "Good morning, milady," she said. "Lord William wishes for you to join him below while we move your things."

Elizabeth nodded. "Tell him I will be downstairs shortly," she requested.

Tara left the room and Elizabeth plucked up a large barrette, fastening her hair into a loose bun. She then opened her closets, producing her favorite gown. It was a dark blue confection, with a specially-tailored bodice which allowed her to go without a constricting whalebone corset. She slipped it over her head, tying the simple lacing that tightened the bodice, then plucked a matching pair of slippers from the bottom of the closet and put them on. Her feet padded whisper-quiet against the wooden floor of the corridor as she made her way to the main staircase.

When she entered the parlor a few moments later, William stood. His eyes immediately fell on the gown that hugged not the hard lines of corseting, but soft curves. He glanced at Elizabeth's face, half-expecting to see the previous animosity or sadness clear in her eyes. He was nearly floored by the amicable shine he saw.

"Good morning, Lord William," she said quietly.

He smiled sincerely. "Good morning, Elizabeth."

There was that accursed little shiver again, tingling up her spine at the sound of her name. Elizabeth tightened her jaw for a brief moment, then relaxed. "I trust you slept well?" she asked, covering up her reaction to his voice.

"Yes, quite," he replied. "And you?"

Her nod of assent was a blatant lie. She'd lain in bed staring at the moonlit ceiling for hours after he'd left her room, her mind replaying the moment of their brief kiss over and over. Only a bit of cold cream she'd daubed beneath her eyes the night before prevented her weariness from showing. "Yes, thank you."

"Last night was certainly entertaining," he mused, remembering the incident with the hairbrush. His train of thought took an abrupt turn as he realized she'd probably not had breakfast. "Have you eaten?" William asked.

"No," Elizabeth said. "Tara told me you wished for me to join you."

"Then I will have Margaret prepare something," he declared. "What would you like?"

"Truly, I do not need much in the mornings. An egg would suffice, but you do not need to give the cook any trouble for me."

"Nonsense," he said, grasping her hand firmly. "Margaret loves it when people visit the kitchen." Elizabeth had but a moment to glance at their joined hands in surprise before he tugged her out the door and down the hallway toward the kitchen. He requested breakfast of Margaret, and then they were off again.

His fingers laced through hers as they continued on their trek down the corridor. "Is there... why are you holding my hand?" Elizabeth asked, slightly winded as she kept up with his long strides.

William slowed his pace, then stopped altogether, turning and tucking a blonde strand behind her ear. "I want you to become familiar with the sensation of my hands on you," he replied slowly, his eyes on hers. His voice had taken on a husky edge, the tone deep and resonant. The intensity of his gaze weakened Elizabeth and she glanced away. "I intend to touch you frequently." As if to prove this, he trailed one hand down her cheek, resting his fingers possessively over her collarbone. His other hand released hers, tilting her face up toward his. "I like your gown," he whispered. His mouth slanted over hers.

At first Elizabeth was too shocked to do anything besides stand against the wall and allow herself to be kissed, but she soon found herself responding to his amorous advances with an innocent fervor that drew a deep, rumbling groan from him. Her hands came up, tangling in his hair.

She felt a new wetness brushing over her lower lip pleasantly, and she opened her mouth in the hopes of the sensation continuing. A small gasp escaped from her throat into his as William's tongue brushed against her own.

A vision of pale skin and dark eyes flashed through his mind and William tore his mouth away from Elizabeth's, staggering back a few steps. He was breathing hard, his eyes wild as memories of Drusilla assailed him.

"Lord William, what is it?" Elizabeth asked, truly concerned. "What's the matter?"

_My William..._

His kiss-swollen lower lip trembled slightly.

_I love you, my William..._

"I..." he began.

_You'll never leave me, will you?_

"I can't..." He broke into a run, turning a corner and disappearing from Elizabeth's line of sight.

* * *

  
"I will not ask," Elizabeth muttered sternly under her breath as she left the kitchen, on her way to the west wing. "I will not ask. I will not a - oomph! Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going..." She dusted herself off, straightened her gown, and looked up into a pair of amused, chocolate-brown eyes.

"You must be the lovely young thing m'cousin Willie's to be marryin'. I can see why he chose ye." The man before her offered a hand. "M'name's Angelus. Liam Angelus."

Elizabeth slid her hand into his, blushing slightly when he kissed it. He made no move to release her. "I am Elizabeth," she said, tugging her hand from his grasp. "I am to marry Lord William."

"An' I can tell ye right now, there's no need for th' formalities with 'im. Willie doesn't like it."

"I would prefer," she said as she pulled her hand from his grasp, "that _Willie_ tell me these things himself. But I thank you for the advice."

"Spirited one, aren't you?" Liam asked, chuckling. "He picks 'em well."

She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I thank you," she said curtly. "But I must be go - "

"Surely you can make some time for a cousin," Liam said, stepping toward her. He looked intent on devouring her whole, and Elizabeth didn't like that one bit.

She sidestepped the assertive Irishman. "It is good to meet you," she called over her shoulder as she fled to the west wing, where servants had just recently finished moving her things into a room that was directly connected with the master bedroom. The room was decorated in white and lavender, which she noticed contrasted sharply with the reds and mahoganies that dominated the adjoining bedroom.

Someone had set a vase of dried flowers next to her window. She inhaled the concentrated sweetness of them, reaching out and fingering a brittle, leathery-soft rose petal absently.

"Do you like them?"

Elizabeth didn't turn around. Instead, she smiled softly, her fingertips brushing over the flower petals once more. "Yes, very much. Thank you," she said.

William approached, standing next to her and gazing out onto the snow-covered grounds. "They come from the gardens," he said. "We shall have to cut some fresh when they bloom."

"It must be beautiful," she mused.

William turned, gazing openly at her. "It is," he replied. He blinked, wondering when he'd begun waxing poetic. "You will like it."

"Tell me about the manor in the summer," Elizabeth implored.

His gaze fell on the snowfield below again. "In the front, roses grow along the outer wall and down by the gates. They bloom in red, yellow, and the softest pink imaginable, the colors chosen by my mother." He pointed out the window toward a long, wooden building. "We planted wildflowers near the stables, and when my cousins' children come in the summer they run through the field of flowers."

"It comes alive in the summer, doesn't it?"

"Yes," William said. "The winter can be... lonely at the manor. We rarely have guests, and the cold seeps into your bones at night if you're unlucky enough to sleep alone."

"You could have guests," Elizabeth pointed out. "You have a wonderful skating pond, why not have an outing and invite everyone to bring their ice skates?"

"I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "But you're absolutely right. Why not get some use out of that pond?"

"I always knew there was a reason that my parents called me their brightest child," Elizabeth said with a smile. It soon faded, though, when she remembered what exactly she hadn't wanted to ask about, and when she realized that she very much _did_ want to ask. She turned toward him. "Lord William," she began warily. "About what happened earlier, I - "

He shushed her. "I'm sorry," he said, "for what happened. It won't happen again."

 _I hope he doesn't mean he shan't kiss me again,_ she thought. "It's alright," she said with infinite gentleness. "All this - " she broke off, gesticulating carefully about her, " - all this is new to me to as well."

He offered a small, crooked smile. "It confuses me," he said quietly.

"What does?" Elizabeth asked.

"I wanted a bride to produce an heir, a bride I could cast aside but take care of financially once my son was born. But I find..." he swallowed. "I find I do not wish to cast you aside."

"Nor would I permit you to," Elizabeth half-joked. "You'll find that I'm not easily ignored."

"No," William agreed. He glanced about the room. Besides the two of them, it was empty, the doors closed. The servants had left awhile before. His eyes fell on her again. "I might kiss you," he warned.

"I might let you."

* * *

  
"I'm getting married tomorrow," Elizabeth said to herself. "I should be happy."

"So, then, why aren't you?"

The blonde's eyes widened and she turned quickly with a squeal. "Winnie!" she exclaimed, rushing forward and embracing her redheaded sister.

"I'd be happy if this were going to be _my_ home," Florence said, eyeing the room as she entered. She was soon followed by a wide-eyed Diana.

"What are you doing here?" Elizabeth asked.

Diana spoke up. "You didn't really think that Father would let his favorite daughter wed without his supervision?"

"This is what was missing," the blonde declared. She noticed Daniel enter the room. "Daniel! Oh, do come and meet my sisters!"

"Ladies," he said with a nod as he approached.

"Diana, Florence, Winnie, this is Daniel. He is Lord William's brother."

"It's nice to meet you, Daniel," Elizabeth's sisters chorused.

Daniel offered a half-grin, his eyes resting on Winnie for a moment longer than it had on Florence or Diana. "Likewise," he said, turning away from the lovely young ladies before him and facing Elizabeth. "Will would like to see you."

Elizabeth looked apologetically at her sisters. "I shall return," she said, allowing Daniel to lead her from the room.

"Is Winnie spoken for?" he asked once they were out of earshot.

"Why, no," she said. "Shall I ask her what she might think of being courted by the younger brother of Lord Bradley?" she questioned with an amused grin.

His eyes widened and he waved his hands a bit. "That is rushing things a bit," he said, horrified that she would suggest that within minutes of the pair meeting. "I should like to get to know her first," They arrived at William's door. His expression grew serious. "I do not know why he wishes for your company. And I will come to fetch you in awhile, because it's not proper for you to see each other too long the night before your wedding. But if he makes any unwanted advances, tell me and I'll - "

"Protect me from your brother's seduction?" Elizabeth asked.

Daniel thought for a moment, then nodded curtly and pushed her forward. He knocked twice, then turned and left.

William opened the door. "I wanted to see you once more before we were separated for the evening," he said, tugging her into the room. He picked her up, kicking the door shut behind him as he carried her toward the bed.

"Lord William, what are you - "

"My motives are perfectly innocent," he insisted. "I was merely concerned about comfort." He set her down on the plush mattress. "Unless of course you'd rather sit on the hard bench over there," he said with a nod in the uncomfortable object's direction. When she didn't respond, he lay on his back next to her and captured one of her hands in his. The pad of his index finger traveled over her palm lightly as he stared at the ceiling. "Are you comfortable?" he asked.

Elizabeth nodded. "You have a very nice bed," she said shyly.

Lord William chuckled. "No, I meant are you comfortable _with me_?"

"I think so," she replied. "It is a strange thing, milord. Two days ago we hadn't met, and then when we _did_ meet, I disliked you - although that was due to truth misconstrued as arrogance - and today, I am comfortable."

"Exactly," William said. He prepared to speak again, but frowned slightly when he realized that she still used his title. "I would like for you to address me informally. Call me Will," he requested.

"Your cousin Liam suggested _nearly_ the very same to me today," Elizabeth said. "I apologize for the formalities, but I feel as though I must use them until I know someone very well."

He turned onto his side, facing her. "So you met Angel, then?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"What did you think of him?"

"He's very..." Elizabeth pondered for a minute. "You know, I do not believe that there is a word which would adequately describe your cousin," she said, breaking off on a giggle.

He chuckled along with her for a moment, then sobered. "What word would you use to describe me?" he asked seriously.

"Intriguing," she said immediately. "I know that I've only seen a select few of your facets, but I believe I would like to see more of them." She caught her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes downcast. "Is there a word for me?" she asked.

He nodded. Her breath caught as he leaned toward her, his hand coming to rest on her neck with his fingertips threaded into her hair. "Beautiful," he whispered.

She blushed slightly, smiling a bit. "Perhaps that would be a better word for you as well," she said.

He glared at her in mock-offense. "I'm not beautiful," he scoffed. "Handsome, dashing, yes. But beautiful, I think not."

"I have never seen another man who looks like you," she insisted. "Truly, it is as if you were some higher life form than human, you're so unique."

"Well then, what exactly makes me beautiful, since you're so determined to label me as such?"

She studied his features for a moment. "Perhaps it is your eyes. They're lovely eyes, so clear and blue." She shook her head. "Or it could be the angles of your face." She reached out and brushed one fingertip across a high cheekbone. "Or perhaps," she said, her tone dropping to a husky near-whisper, "it could be your mouth..."

"Oh?" William asked, inching toward her. "And what is it about my mouth," he pondered aloud, his breath warming her face, "that is so beautiful?" His lips were now millimeters from hers.

"I do not know exactly," Elizabeth replied. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, brushing slightly against his mouth as it passed. A shudder went through both of them. "Perhaps it is what you can do with - "

William cut her off with a kiss. They both inhaled sharply at the contact, their bodies gravitating toward one another as their mouths teased and caressed. Elizabeth's hands traveled over the planes of his back as they kissed, rolling slightly so he lay half atop her. He pulled back for a moment, brushing hair from her face. "So much for innocent motives," he muttered, leaning in to capture her lips again.


	4. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?

Hundreds of near-white candles cast a warm glow throughout the chapel and sent shadows dancing on the cold stonewalls. A pew close to the altar creaked, but no one took notice. Close to a dozen people looked on as the comely pair knelt before the priest, heads bowed in prayer.

Sir Henry sat proudly next to a middle-aged woman whose once shining blonde hair was now threaded through with grey at the temples. She focused on her daughter, tears beginning to well in her eyes. She glanced at Winnie, who fidgeted a bit as she stood off to the side. Diana, sitting next to her mother, couldn't hold back her happy grin. Florence, meanwhile, kept shifting her weight and propelling her body into new positions in the hope of catching the eye of Liam, who sat across the aisle.

She was succeeding. Liam had stopped paying attention to the ceremony shortly after it had begun, and now watched Florence out of the corner of his eye. Every once in awhile, he would face forward again, his attention falling on Daniel, who looked torn between gazing openly at Winnie and watching as William wed a second time.

The two before the priest stood, facing one another. Elizabeth straightened the folds of her gown self-consciously, turning toward William when the priest bade her to. They each felt their younger sibling press a ring into their palm. Each repeated their vows.

William offered a little half-grin as he gazed into Elizabeth's eyes. He took her hand in his, sliding the ring home. "With this ring, I thee wed," he murmured.

She looked down, a bit self-conscious, then grasped his hand. "With this ring, I thee wed," she returned when the gold band was in place.

His eyes twinkled at her as they tuned out the priest. When he'd stopped speaking William leaned forward and kissed Elizabeth softly. They turned and he led her down the aisle and out of the sanctuary. Her cloak and his greatcoat were waiting for them in the entryway, and he helped her with the heavy woolen folds of the cloak before shrugging his greatcoat on in one smooth motion. He once again offered her his arm and she took it, allowing him to lead her once more as they exited the church and hurried to their carriage.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, before William shifted impatiently and turned to her. "Why are you so quiet?" he asked.

"I am trying to discern if it feels any different," she replied.

"If what feels different?"

"Being married." She picked an imaginary piece of lint from her cloak. "It does not seem different."

"Yet," he supplied. He edged closer to her, his eyes locking on hers. "May I kiss you?"

"This might be the first time you've asked, milord," she said, a teasing note in her voice as she leaned closer to him. "Why not just... take...?"

Their second kiss as man and wife was far less restrained and friendly, filled with heat and unuttered promises. His lips masterfully explored hers and urged them to part. His tongue flicked over her lips and he smiled slightly against her mouth when her own tongue darted out to touch his.

William's hands drifted down Elizabeth's back, pressing her toward him as their kiss intensified. Her fingers traced the muscles in his neck lightly. They pulled apart for a moment, foreheads resting against one another's as they panted for breath. Elizabeth leaned back slightly and gazed at William. She touched his kiss-swollen lips lightly with one finger, gasping sharply when his eyes snapped open and he sucked the tip into his mouth and worried the pad with teeth and tongue.

One of his hands left her lower back and wrapped lightly around her hand, drawing her finger further into his mouth. He sucked it rhythmically, and a delicious heat spiraled through her. He flicked his tongue over her fingertip once more, then released it, leaning in toward her throat.

Elizabeth's eyes fell closed again as William nibbled his way up to her ear. She trembled with need, feeling his hot breath against her cheek.

"That's what it will be like for me when I'm inside you," he murmured huskily, his mouth once again fusing with hers.

* * *

  
Laughter filled the parlor as the newlyweds were received by their guests. The day was filled with embarrassing stories about their youths and a bit too much champagne. So it was no surprise that when Angel stood to speak to William and Elizabeth, that the words that escaped his mouth were less than modest.

"'Twouldn't be a proper weddin' without a proper Irish blessin'," he announced loudly, swaying slightly as he took another swig from his champagne flute. "But unfortunately 'm too drunk to think o' one, so I'd just like to propose a toast to m'cousin Willie an' his _lovely_ Liz'beth." He raised his glass. "May ye enjoy each other heartily an' as often as possible." He did a little dance, spun around, and plopped gracelessly back into the seat he'd been occupying.

Laughter once again erupted from the group, though Diana didn't understand the humor in the situation. She focused on Elizabeth, who was blushing prettily. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"You'll understand when you're older," Elizabeth said between snickers. She glanced out the window. The sun was setting now, casting a rosy glow through the room. "Oh, how lovely," she said, sobering.

William reached over, interlacing his fingers with Elizabeth's, and Sir Henry immediately noticed. "We must be returning to London," he said abruptly. "I've important business to attend to in the morning, and it's a long trip back."

"Oh, Father, can't we stay a little longer?" Diana pleaded.

"I'm afraid not," he said.

Elizabeth stood, releasing William's hand. "Thank you for coming," she said, kissing Sir Henry's cheek. She embraced him quickly, then bade her sisters and mother goodbye. "You'll come to see me again, won't you?" she asked Winnie.

The redhead nodded. She turned her attention to Daniel, who was standing silently off to the side, his eyes on her.

William rose and shook Sir Henry's hand. "You take care of my daughter," Sir Henry said gruffly.

"I will," William promised. He smiled amicably at each of Elizabeth's sisters, watching as they left the room. His attention fell on Daniel, who looked positively lovesick as Winnie left. "If you would pay attention to Angel..." he trailed off, the unspoken bidding hanging between them.

Daniel nodded. "I'll see you in the morning," he said.

William turned toward Elizabeth. Her nervousness was clear as she shifted from one foot to the other, her hands fidgeting. "Come with me," he requested quietly, taking her hand again.

He led her up the stairs toward their bedrooms. She was tense, walking slightly stiffly. He tried to ignore it for a while, but soon had enough. He stopped walking, turned, and looked her in the eye. "What's the matter?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I do not think - " she cleared her throat, speaking again. "Could I answer that once we are inside one of our rooms?"

He nodded. They continued on their way in silence, soon reaching her bedroom. He closed the door behind them, locking it. "Now, what is the problem?" he asked again.

"Tara said that it would hurt," she said, her eyes downcast.

William pursed his lips, his brow furrowing for a moment. "Tara was right," he said finally. "But only for a moment, and I will make sure your pain is as little as possible. I do not want to hurt you, Elizabeth," he said.

She lifted her eyes again, surprised at how soft his gaze was as he focused on her. "You will go slowly?" she asked.

He nodded, leaning into her. "As slowly as you need," he whispered against her mouth, brushing a gentle kiss over her lips. He pulled back, urging her backwards and through the connecting door. When they'd neared the bed, his lips fell to hers again, this time pressing up against hers in a demanding kiss that took her breath away. He turned them around, backing up the remaining distance and sitting on the edge of the bed.

His hands grasped hers, pulling her to stand between his legs, and then his palms ran up her arms and around her back. "This time," he murmured, "Kiss me."

Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly, but then she leaned in, her eyes drifting shut as she brushed a soft, gentle kiss over his lips. She increased the pressure slightly, her hands coming up and resting on his lean shoulders as she kissed him again, wondering why he wasn't responding to her ministrations. _I shall just have to try harder,_ she decided, kissing him in earnest now. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and worried it with her teeth, her tongue flicking out to soothe the marks that she'd left.

Still, he remained unresponsive. One of his hands fell to the bedspread and clutched the material in a tight fist as he fought to keep control. A lust-filled shudder coursed through him when Elizabeth's tongue dipped into his slightly open mouth, circling his own tongue tentatively.

 _Success!_ Elizabeth thought gleefully when a harsh moan escaped his throat. She pulled away slightly, panting, but was quickly drawn into another kiss when his lips searched instinctively for hers again. She found herself suddenly lying on her back half-beneath him.

"I'm going to touch you," William said, his voice rough with passion. He shifted his weight so it rested on his right side, bringing his left hand across her collarbone and down, his palm coming to rest over one firm breast. He rolled her erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the heat of his hand searing through her clothes.

Elizabeth gasped, reaching desperately for William and pulling his mouth toward hers again, but he pulled away from her at the last moment, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat and across the low neckline.

"Can I..." he asked, motioning toward the gown.

Elizabeth swallowed nervously but nodded in assent. She sat up, and he moved behind her, his fingers making quick work of the row of tiny pearl buttons down the back. He pushed it slowly off her shoulders, his breath hot against the back of her neck as he exposed more and more skin. She shivered slightly, her eyes half-lidded as she slipped her arms from the sleeves.

"Cold?" William asked, stripping his shirt off.

She shook her head. "No, I - " Elizabeth cut off abruptly as her husband came around her again and faced her, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're beautiful," he said, taking in her corset-clad form appreciatively before tugging at the bottom hem of her gown. He pulled the material slowly down her legs, his eyes on hers as he divested her of the beautiful garment, which he tossed over a chair, leaving her in her corset and shift.

Elizabeth decided right at that moment that she'd never seen anything quite so breathtaking as her husband when he wasn't wearing a shirt, the muscles in his chest and back rippling as he moved. They gazed at one another for several moments, and then William's hands were at her back again, unlacing her corset nimbly. He tugged at it a few times, futilely, then reached over her, pulled a knife from the drawer in his nightstand, and sliced up the lacings in one smooth motion. He tossed the knife back onto the nightstand, then pulled the mutilated corset carefully from her. It landed on the floor several feet away.

William's mouth fell on hers again, kissing her with a dizzying intensity. He pushed her onto her back gently, settling above her. Her thighs fell open and he landed between them, one hand in her hair and the other tracing patterns against her skin.

His fingers caught the hem of her shift and tugged it upwards, over her hips. It bunched just beneath her breasts and he lifted himself off her, pulling the linen garment off the rest of the way. He tossed it over his head.

Elizabeth brought her hands up, covering her bare breasts self-consciously. She blushed under the intensity of his gaze.

"Don't," he said. "You're beautiful," he repeated, grasping her hands in his gently and pulling them away. He kissed her once more, then began a wet trail of kisses downwards. His mouth latched onto one pebbled nipple, flicking it with his tongue.

Elizabeth's back arched and she cried out at his mouth's ministrations. "Sweet Heaven," she exclaimed. "What... what are you - " she cut off as his lips brushed over the golden-brown thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. "Oh, my..."

One of William's hands worked at the fastenings on his trousers as he nuzzled and kissed her most intimate area. His tongue dipped within her, then traced her dewy folds. He searched out the hard, throbbing nub of nerves, sucking down onto it as he wriggled out of his pants. One long, slender finger thrust into her, stretching her slightly.

Before long, Elizabeth's body was tense, her head thrashing against the pillow. William grinned, raking his teeth against her slightly. She climaxed with a loud cry, gasping and shuddering as he quickly crawled up her body.

Her eyes snapped open when she felt a hardness prodding her folds. Feeling the sheer size of him, she gave a shaky little smile, before saying shakily, "I... I do not think that it will fit."

William chuckled. "It will," he assured her. "Now... relax..."

Elizabeth felt her muscles become liquid at his words, and he prepared to enter her the first time, his mouth lowering over hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in advance, thrusting into her quickly. He took her cry of remorse into his mouth and remained still while she adjusted to him. Taking several deep, steadying breaths, he forced his desperate need down, instead lifting his mouth from hers and gazing into her eyes. "I did not want to hurt you," he said with a small, apologetic smile.

"The pain is gone," she replied. "All that's left is... you."

"Mm," he agreed. "And you." He shifted his hips slightly, testing her gingerly. When she didn't flinch, he thrust slightly deeper, withdrawing slowly. He built up a steady rhythm, gentle and slow. One of his hands tugged her legs up, wrapping them around his waist.

She gasped as the new angle hit something within her. "Will - " she exclaimed.

His eyes, which had closed as he'd begun to truly enjoy the feel of her, snapped open once more. "Say it again," he rasped.

"Will," she moaned as delicious sensations spiraled through her. "Oh, Will..."

He faltered slightly in his rhythm, then sped up his thrusts a bit. "Elizabeth," he groaned. "There's nothing... nothing like the feel of you..." His head fell forward, brow resting in the crook of her neck. One hand snaked between them when he felt a familiar tightening in his lower abdomen. "Elizabeth... come for me. Let go now, and - "

"Will!" Elizabeth cried, tremors racking her body for a second time. Her eyes rolled back from the intense sensations, her back and hips arching in turn.

The sound of his name on her lips and the fluttering muscles of her inner walls against his member sent him over the edge. He pushed up with his toes, thrusting in as far as he could, and emptied himself within her.

The muscles of his arms trembled, and he collapsed weakly atop her, gasping for breath. When his pulse had slowed a little, he rolled to his side, pulling her with him and tucking her beneath his chin.

She dropped a kiss on his chest, one finger tracing circles on his ribcage. "Is it always..." She trailed off. "Will it always be like that?"

William chuckled. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try my best."

* * *

  
Elizabeth awoke slowly, wondering why her pillow seemed to have wrapped itself around her. Her eyelids fluttered open, falling on the sleeping countenance of her husband. _Will,_ she mentally corrected herself.

She pulled back slightly, admiring him. In sleep, his face took on an innocent, almost boyish look, his dark eyelashes long and brushing impossibly high cheekbones. She shifted a bit, feeling a stirring where their legs were intertwined, and glanced down to see that he was becoming aroused. A blush stained her cheeks prettily.

It was the memories of the previous night's events, flooding her mind all at once, that snapped her out of her well-rested lethargy. While she was in the process of extricating herself from Will's embrace, his arms tightened about her and he mumbled incoherently, his eyelids fluttering but not opening.

Elizabeth heaved a sigh and forced herself to relax. William nuzzled her throat sleepily. "Good morning," he murmured into her skin, not opening his eyes.

"Good morning," she returned, draping an arm over him. "Did you sleep well?"

He nodded, his lips tickling her a bit as he spoke. "Better than I have in years." He slowly opened his eyes, gazing into her own. "Are you tender?" he asked, one hand trailing down her stomach and caressing her gently.

She shook her head. "There isn't any pain."

"I'm glad," he said, pulling himself up her body slightly so he could drop a kiss on her lips. "It's early."

The first fingers of dawn were just creeping over the horizon, and for the most part the landscape was still dark. The room was cast in a deep shadow.

"Mm," Elizabeth agreed.

"Daniel and Angel won't expect us until ten or so."

"Oh?"

"You're beautiful," he whispered against her lips.


	5. Just for a Little While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?

"What do you mean, you're  _leaving_ ?"

"I mean," William said, "that I have to go away for awhile. I have some business to take care of. But I promise I'll return within a week."

Elizabeth frowned. "And you're taking Daniel with you."

"Yes, Daniel and Angel are both accompanying me." A muscle in his jaw began to tick as he repeated himself.

The blonde placed her hands on her hips. "So I'll be stranded here by myself, with only the servants to keep me company?" she demanded.

He nodded. "They're waiting. Kiss me goodbye?"

"Why should I? You just... suddenly decide that you need to be elsewhere, after... after... ooh!" she exclaimed. She turned, picked up her skirts, and prepared to flee.

He caught her arm. "Elizabeth, please," he begged. "We shouldn't part on such poor terms." His lower lip jutted out just a bit, his blue eyes softening. "All I ask of you is a kiss."

"Let go of me," she whispered. He released his grip on her arm and she hurried down the hallway, out of sight.

William heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his wildly curling hair, frustrated. His boot heels clicked on the wooden floors as he walked quickly in the opposite direction that Elizabeth had fled.

Elizabeth ran into her room, collapsing on her bed. The tears that had been threatening to spill now ran freely down her cheeks. Memories of the previous night's events came back to her, causing her to sob harder as the feelings that had accompanied their actions started thrumming through her body once more.

The door opened and closed, and her bed sank down at the foot. Strong arms wrapped around her and soft lips landed on the nape of her neck. "I'm sorry I upset you," William murmured. "The business can wait." He turned her so she lay on her back, kissing her gently.

"You should go," Elizabeth said quietly, pulling away slightly and wiping her tears with the backs of her hands. "I shouldn't have gotten upset."

He pouted as he interlaced his fingers with hers. "But now I don't want to go," he said, snuggling into her. He grasped the front lacing of her gown between his teeth and tugged at it until it loosened, then nudged the fabric aside with his nose and placed tiny butterfly kisses on the exposed flesh. "Convince me to leave," he urged. His chin pushed the cloth of her bodice further downward and his mouth latched onto one nipple, suckling gently. "Tell me to go."

Elizabeth sucked in a sharp breath. She tugged her hands away from his, tangling her fingers in his hair. "You should - " she swallowed hard, her head flung back and her back arched as he flicked the pebbled flesh between his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"I should...?" he teased, his breath fanning over her nipple.

"Don't stop," she gasped as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her breast.

He chuckled against her skin. "I thought you wanted me to leave." He nibbled at her collarbone, nipping it daintily.

"I..." she moaned softly, "I changed my mind."

"Well, if I'm not leaving..." he said as he grasped her skirts and began tugging them upwards, "... what am I to do?"

Elizabeth pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him passionately. He responded to the ardent pressure of mouth-to-mouth, his tongue dipping into her mouth to dance with hers. His hips lifted slightly, allowing her bunched skirts to come to a rest above her waist, and he sought out her warm, moist flesh with his fingertips.

She tore her mouth from his, crying out. "Ah... Will, please..." she panted.

He caressed her once more, then removed his hand and unfastened his trousers. His arousal sprang free, bouncing against her tender folds and they both inhaled sharply. "What... what do you need?" he asked, one hand wrapping around the base of his member as he pulled his hips back and teased her with the tip.

She shuddered violently. "You," she pleaded. "Inside..."

A knock sounded at the door. _Go away,_ William mentally pleaded as he reared back and prepared to sink within his beautiful wife. _Please go away..._

The knocking grew louder. "Will? Are you in there?"

Daniel. The dark-haired man whimpered quietly, willing his erection to dissipate as he tucked himself carefully back into his trousers and fastened them, then sat back and tugged Elizabeth's skirts down and her bodice up. He pulled her up into a sitting position. "Yes," he answered hoarsely.

"Will, we must leave," Daniel called.

William cleared his throat. "I shan't be but a moment," he replied. He turned to Elizabeth, raising a shaking hand to her cheek and leaning into her again. "That was the best goodbye kiss I've ever received," he murmured against her throat. He tilted his head up and brushed her lips with his. "I will return as soon as I am able," he said quietly, pulling away.

She watched as he exited the room, the door closing quietly behind him, and promptly flopped back onto the bed, wrapping her arms about herself and wishing she had someone to keep her company.

* * *

  
William disliked traveling on business. He'd chosen to ride in the saddle rather than in a carriage, a decision he was regretting now as he shifted from side to side and his sore muscles protested. He was fatigued and in a black mood, and the last thing he wanted to do was sit in a drawing room filled with pipe smoke and sip brandy with the elderly lords of his father's generation. If the meeting lasted much longer, he would not be able to prevent himself from doing something rash.

Rash, of course, meant something similar to dashing out of the room and collapsing, asleep, onto his borrowed bed. He'd figured that twenty hours or so of rest would be enough to rejuvenate him to the point where he could tolerate the old codgers' blathering. But given that it was not fashionable or proper to draw that much attention to one's self, he instead slouched lower in the high-backed chair, trying not to grimace in discomfort or throttle Daniel, who was smirking at him from across the room.

"William, my boy, you seem awfully distracted," his host commented. "Are you alright?"

He turned his attention to the speaker and nodded. "Yes, Lord Fairchild," he said. "I'm simply a bit tired from riding." He swiped at a loose, dark lock of hair, which had refused to be tied back and now flopped into his eyes.

Lord Fairchild smiled understandingly. "Ah," he replied, "I understand completely. Why, when I was your age, I didn't want to be stuck inside a carriage for such a long journey either. Gentlemen," he said to the rest of his guests, "I believe that young Lord Bradley would like to retire. He's had a long trip, and we're simply keeping him awake." He stood. "Let me walk with you to your room."

William smiled gratefully, then stood and winced slightly as his body stretched out. Still, he managed to walk normally as they left the room.

"Now, tell me of this girl with whom you intend to replace my daughter," Lord Fairchild requested.

* * *

  
It had been over a week since William and Daniel had set out on their journey, and Elizabeth was beginning to grow weary of not having anyone to talk to. It was this feeling of loneliness that spurred her to take an excursion to the skating pond. She bundled up tightly in her thick, woolen cloak and muffler, wearing her warmest gown and several layers of skirting. A scarf was wrapped around her throat and over her head to prevent her from catching a chill. The walk to the pond was short, but there was a strong wind blowing, making her wonder if she'd gone mad to skate in such weather.

As soon as she'd stepped onto the ice, she had remembered why she'd wanted to go out. She glided smoothly over the ice, concentrating on the connection of the surface of the pond and her feet. Her eyes were half-closed, the lids fluttering against the wind. She skated to the middle of the pond and stopped, breathing hard and closing her eyes.

A hand slid over her lower back.

She shrieked softly, whirling around.

"Did you miss me?" William asked, grinning.

Elizabeth scowled at him. "You shouldn't frighten me like that," she said, turning and preparing to skate off.

His hand on her forearm prevented her escape. "Won't you give your husband a proper welcome?"

"No," she replied petulantly, inwardly delighted when he drew her close, tilting her chin up.

"Ah," he said. "Then I shall have to make do with an improper one." His mouth swooped down, claiming hers in a heated kiss that left them both gasping.

When they broke apart, Elizabeth asked, "When did you return?" She buried her face in the thick wool of his greatcoat, which muffled her next words: "I missed you."

"I arrived a few minutes after you came out here," he replied. "Would you like to go inside? You shouldn't stay outside too long in this weather."

"And of course, there's no ulterior motive behind wanting me inside," she teased.

"Of course not."

* * *

  
Two nude bodies, glistening with sweat and breathing hard, rocked together in the middle of the large bed in the master suite. Sharp gasps and low moans permeated the otherwise near-silent room.

William groaned, pulling his wife's thighs up higher and thrusting in deeper. "So sweet," he rasped, kissing her. "So sweet..."

The blonde beneath him smiled, clutching at his back and shoulders. She cried out sharply as the tip of him collided with the entrance to her womb again and again. "Will," she gasped.

He lifted a hand, bracing his weight on his opposite elbow. His fingers brushed her hair away from her face as his eyes, dark with passion, roved over her features. He kissed her again, his tongue slipping between her lips and stroking hers. His free hand then slipped between them, cupping one firm breast and rolling the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Elizabeth flung her head back, grinding the back of her skull into the soft pillows beneath her, and arched her back. She writhed beneath him, breathy moans punctuating his thrusts. The tumultuous desire he was causing in her escalated to a fever pitch, until she was shaking with it. A harsh sob escaped her throat.

The dark-haired man surged into her, angling upwards, and Elizabeth cried out once more, her entire body convulsing in her climax. William offered a little half-smile before surrendering to the passion himself, falling over the edge with a hoarse shout of her name.

He continued moving until he was too weak to support himself, collapsing atop her with a small grunt. He rolled over onto his side, taking her with him, remaining inside. Pressing his face to the crook of her neck, he smiled against her skin.

Elizabeth threaded her fingers through his damp hair, kissing the top of his head. She snuggled closer, not caring that their bodies would soon be adhered by sweat. "No ulterior motives?"

"None," William replied with a grin. He pulled a strand of hair out of her eyes. His own eyes twinkled with mischief when he said, "Perhaps I should go away more often, if this is the result."

"No!" Elizabeth exclaimed softly.

"No?"

She shook her head. "It was absolutely dreadful not having anyone to talk to. I was terribly lonely."

"To be fair, that wasn't exactly talking, what we just did," he teased, nipping at her shoulder. "Rarely has a conversation caused me to become as fevered and sweaty as I am now."

"Oh!" she mock-growled. "How horribly brash and uncouth."

"I'll show you uncouth," William warned, rolling to his back. He pulled Elizabeth up to straddle his hips, then cupped one of her breasts, which hung enticingly above his face.

"Oh, but Will, I wanted to talk to you, not - " She cut off with a gasp as the pad of his thumb flicked over her pebbled nipple.

"Mm," William replied absently, wrapping his free arm around her back and drawing her breast down to his mouth.

Elizabeth pulled back from his seeking lips, glaring at him sternly. "You're not listening."

"We'll talk later," he replied, putting a bit more pressure on her back so he could lave her nipple with a long stroke of his tongue. "Sometime when we have more clothing on."

She clutched at his head, gasping as he circled her nipple with his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth. His hands closed on her hips, moving her in small circles against his rapidly hardening erection, and he groaned when her wetness slid over him. Sucking in a deep breath, he lifted her hips, then lowered her onto his turgid shaft.

Elizabeth's eyes widened at this new position, as William moved her so she was sitting on his lap. She braced her hands against his chest. "Will...?" she questioned.

His fingers tightened on her hips slightly as he guided her movements. "There," he said when she caught on to his rhythm. "Just like that..." His gaze was drawn in by her lightly swaying breasts as she rose and fell on him. He braced himself on his elbows, nipping and sucking at her hard nipples, caressing their undersides with his tongue.

She arched her back, drawing him deeper than before and cried out. William echoed her cry with an answering groan, lifting his hips to meet her downward thrusts. He lay back, watching his wife, as Venus incarnate, drive him closer and closer to the brink of madness with her innocently seductive rhythm. His gaze cut a smoldering path over her form, and Elizabeth opened her eyes, startled by the passion she found in his.

She leaned forward, kissing him, brushing her tongue against the full softness of his lower lip. William responded to her kiss eagerly, clutching at her hips as she maintained her rhythm. He moaned softly into her mouth, one of his hands traveling up her back and immersing itself in the damp silkiness of her hair.

Elizabeth rocked her hips, taking William smoothly up to the hilt on every downstroke. Her fingernails raked across his abdomen, feeling the hard muscles tense and relax spasmodically. Her eyes closed, her throat arching as he slipped a hand between her thighs and manipulated the small, distended ridge of her clitoris.

"Ah!" she cried, "Will..." and then her inner walls were clenching him tight and releasing unconsciously, milking his own orgasm from him. Her fingernails bit into his biceps, and then, no longer able to hold herself upright, she collapsed against his chest. They both groaned weakly at the loss of contact when his softening shaft slipped out of her wet heat.

It was awhile before either of them could move again. When he finally gathered the strength, William wrapped an arm around Elizabeth's back, kissing the top of her head and tucking her beneath his chin. "I think you've killed me, wife," he said hoarsely.

"Shh," she replied, "no talking. I'm trying to sleep."

He chuckled, placing his free hand on her hip. "Sleep then. I don't think I could have you again now if my life depended on it."

"Good night, Will," Elizabeth murmured against his throat as she drifted off.

"Good night, Elizabeth."


	6. Snow White, Blood Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?

Elizabeth walked aimlessly down the corridor, her feet shuffling slightly with each step. She looked around as she walked, studying paintings that hung on the walls and the snowscape outside, which was visible through heavily curtained windows. She was so involved in taking in the details of her home that she failed to notice the soft footsteps behind her, indicating that she was being followed.

She suddenly found herself being pulled into a darkened corner, her back pressed to a firm chest. A large, masculine hand covered her mouth to muffle her surprised shriek.

"You should really be more careful, walking about in the manor like you are. Someone could sneak up on you."

The horrified look in her eye was replaced with one of mischief as she stepped firmly on her captor's foot. When he released her with a grunt of pain, Elizabeth lifted her skirts and ran down the empty hallway, laughing. William pushed off the wall and gave chase.

The lord and lady of the manor ran past Margaret, who was speaking to one of the chambermaids near the kitchen. The old woman's face burst into a smile as she looked after her master and mistress. "She's given him back his youth," the cook mused.

William slowed his pace, coming to a halt and breathing hard. "I forfeit! I'm completely winded." He bent at the waist, placing his palms on his knees as he looked up at Elizabeth.

The blonde came cautiously closer to her husband. "It takes more than _that_ to tire you," she said as she approached.

When she was within three paces of him, William pounced on her. He caught her about the waist and lifted her up as she giggled and slapped halfheartedly at his shoulders. "Well, Lady Bradley, it seems that you've got a dilemma," he said, his eyes dancing.

"Put me down, you brute!" Elizabeth demanded, trying to look stern despite the fact that William was staring at the swells of her breasts as if he were a starving man and they a magnificent feast. "Or I'll..."

"You'll what?" he asked, cocking his head slightly. He loosened his grip on her, allowing her to slide slowly down his body.

"Or I'll be forced to kiss the breath out of you," she said, nodding firmly for emphasis.

"And what will you do if I decide to release you?" William queried, his arms still about her waist.

Elizabeth gazed up at him, leaning up and nearly kissing him. "You might enjoy the consequences of that action more than keeping me hostage..." she said softly.

Thinking she meant to climb into bed with him and not leave for days, William's arms slackened and fell to his sides. Seconds later, his eyes widened in surprise as Elizabeth turned, grinned impishly at him over her shoulder, hiked her skirts up around her ankles, and ran.

* * *

  
"You wished to speak with me?" William asked. He stood in the doorway of the library, addressing his wife, who sat comfortably in one of the chairs, reading.

Elizabeth looked up at him. "Oh, yes. It concerns your brother and my sister."

He entered the room, sitting opposite her. "Daniel and..."

"Winnie. They fancy each other, you know."

William smiled. "But each is too shy to admit it to the other," he said.

"I believe we could help them to speak their true feelings," Elizabeth said. "They are both wonderful, kind people, and they deserve happiness."

"You just want to marry Daniel off so that we can have the manor to ourselves," he teased.

"Actually, I was hoping that they would live in the east wing. We could keep each other company while you went off to your business meetings." She set the book down.

"And naturally, having your sister here would make things that much easier on you," William said. "I'll speak with Daniel, if you write to Winnie."

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed happily, flinging herself out of her chair and into his arms. She embraced him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said as she kissed both of his cheeks.

"You're welcome," he replied. He nudged her off his lap and stood, picking up the soft throw that was draped over the chair he'd been seated in. He settled comfortably on the bearskin rug in on the floor before the hearth and patted the spot next to him.

Elizabeth stared at him for a moment. They'd last had each other just a few hours before. He couldn't possibly...

William grasped her wrist and pulled her down to the lush bearskin with him.

He then draped the throw blanket around both of them and pulled her close, tucking her beneath his chin after kissing the top of her head. She curled into him, resting her head against his chest and tracing random patterns on his shirt with the tip of her index finger.

William trailed tiny kisses down the side of her face, to her ear. His breath was warm against her skin as he asked, "What's your favorite color?"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the abrupt question. Her trailing finger ceased all motion. "Pardon?" she asked.

He looked into her eyes, smiling a bit. "For every question you answer, you shall receive a kiss. What is your favorite color?" he asked again.

"Blue," she replied, her fingers once again trailing over his throat.

"Hmm," William said, as if analyzing her. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, nibbling on her lower lip playfully, then pulled back and asked, "Any childhood pets?"

Elizabeth smiled slightly. "Two dogs. Buttercup and Reginald."

"Buttercup?" he asked in amusement. He parted his lips and coaxed her mouth open with his own, stroking her tongue with his, then released her glistening lips with a loud smack. "Who named them?"

She sniffed haughtily. "I did, of course. I gave them the finest names that a four-year-old could offer."

His tongue pressed deeply into her mouth, tasting her and trailing over the contours of her teeth. He tickled the roof of her mouth with the tip of his tongue before withdrawing again. "And they're very fine names indeed." He grinned playfully at her. "One hopes that your ability to name has improved over the years. No child of mine is going to be named _Buttercup_."

"Buttercup is a very dignified name! Just think of it: Lord Buttercup Bradley..." Elizabeth burst into a fit of giggles while William glared at her. When she'd calmed herself, she heaved a mock sigh and said, "I promise, there will be no Buttercup."

"Thank God," William breathed. He looked at her sternly. "What's the best thing that's ever happened to you?"

Elizabeth was quiet for a long time, her brow furrowed as she pondered her answer. "I don't believe it's happened yet."

"There must've been something wonderful that's occurred sometime in your life," he insisted.

Elizabeth smiled a bit, silently reaching up and cupping his cheek in her palm. She kissed him sweetly, stroking his face as he responded. Their lips played gently against each other's for a prolonged moment before they pulled away slightly.

"Unfair," he protested weakly. "I was supposed to give _you_ a kiss."

"Feel free," she murmured. "I won't stop you."

He offered a silly little half-smile before pressing her down against the bearskin rug and pinning her wrists over her head. He lowered his head slowly, running his tongue across her lips before slipping it between them, coaxing hers to play. He flicked the tip of his tongue across the tip of hers.

Elizabeth shuddered slightly in response, mewling softly into his mouth as his lips parted fully over hers and he sucked her tongue into his mouth. He entrapped the sweet-tasting muscle in the warm dark of his mouth, sucking rhythmically on it while he swirled his own tongue around it.

She writhed beneath him as his kiss stoked an unbelievable passion within her. Drawing his tongue back into her mouth, she stroked the underside of it with the tip of hers. He groaned into the kiss, his grip on her wrists tightening once before he released her hands. Elizabeth immediately clutched at his shoulders, arching into him.

Finally he tore away from her, panting, his eyes glazed with desire. He rolled to his back on the bearskin and she settled against his side. He took her hand in his and began absently stroking the soft flesh on the inside of her forearm with his fingertips.

"Ask me anything," he said.

She closed her eyes for a moment in thought, running her fingers through his hair gently. The right question slowly formed in her mind. Finally, her eyes opened and she met his gaze. "What was..." she trailed off, averting her eyes.

"No need to be shy," William said gently.

"Oh, but it's not proper for me to ask such a -"

"Elizabeth," He looked firmly at her. "I am your husband. You can ask your question."

She returned her gaze to his eyes, taking a deep breath. "What was Drusilla like?"

* * *

  
"What did you do to him?"

Elizabeth started and turned around. "I declare, you and your brother are going to frighten me to death one day..."

Daniel stood a good distance away, leaning against the wall. "Will is in one of his moods - the ones he got for months at a time after Drusilla passed. Did you say something to him?"

The blonde looked away, an expression of guilt on her countenance. "Perhaps I mentioned the late Lady Bradley... But am I to blame for wanting to know about my husband's first wife?"

"I could've told you what you needed to know," Daniel informed her, "and Will would've been better for it."

"But why does he close in on himself so at the mention of my predecessor?" Elizabeth asked.

"It is a painful topic for him, Elizabeth," Daniel responded. "He cannot speak of it to anyone. No matter how much time has passed, the event of Drusilla's death is fresh on my brother's mind."

"It has been _seven years_ ," she cried. "Seven years, and he has done nothing but mourn her! She's gone from him, and will be until he, himself, passes. Why can he not allow her some rest?"

Daniel smiled gently at his confused sister-in-law. "Will loved her more deeply than I've ever thought it was possible for a man to love a woman," he said. "He gave himself to her completely, and she to him."

"I know all this, Daniel. You've told me, Will has told me. But it is unhealthy for him to dwell on her death."

"You and I know that, dear sister. But what I know, what you do not, is what else happened that day."

"What was it?" she asked.

"The day that Drusilla died," the red-haired man said, "Will's spirit died with her."

"Then I believe I am asking the wrong question," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "The question is _not_ why is he dead inside, but rather, how can we help him to live again?" She looked at Daniel with determination shining in her eyes. "Help me to resurrect my husband."

* * *

  
"It is only for a few days," Elizabeth told herself as she watched the black carriage roll down the drive. "It is only for a few days."

Meanwhile, inside the carriage, William was repeating much the same mantra to himself. "Two or three days, at most," he muttered.

"Don't be upset, Willie m'boy!" Angel said loudly, clapping his cousin on the back. "Why, in a matter of a few days, you'll be back in bed with your pretty lil' wife, enjoyin' 'er - " He cut off with a wince as Daniel kicked him in the shin in warning. "... company," he finished lamely.

"And just think, this is the last meeting we must have until summertime, Will," Daniel added.

"One hopes," William said with a sigh. "I grow weary of visiting the homes of men thrice my age, to speak of issues I care little about. I have no interest in the Americas."

"I was thinkin' of takin' a tour some time," Angel stated. "I hear th' lands are fertile an' the women're easy."

"So you wish to become a farmer, married to a tavern maid, then?" William joked.

"Naw," Angel replied. "I'll sample th' tavern maids, an' come home to inherit m'father's riches, 'f course."

William shook his head in amusement, turning his attention to Daniel. "Have you kept in contact with Winnie?"

Daniel averted his eyes for a moment, then replied quietly, "We have corresponded in letters, yes."

"Another Bradley boy in lust wit' a Winterton," Angel mused. "You're cursed, the whole lot 'f you!"

"I would not speak so loudly, Angel," Daniel shot back. "I saw you and Florence at the wedding."

"Ah, she's a pretty thing," the Irishman said with a little sigh. "Dark as sin an' I wager she's a spitfire..."

William raised an eyebrow at his cousin before turning toward his brother once more. "Do you fancy her?" the older brother asked.

"I have considered the possibility of courting her. My feelings for Winnie run deeper than the vulgar _lust_ that Angel spoke of," Daniel conceded. "But her father is a rather imposing man and..."

"Nonsense. My father-in-law is a reasonable man, Daniel. Ask him permission to court his daughter, and he will grant it."

"You sound very certain," the lighter-haired man said.

"It helps that my wife is his favorite daughter," William conceded, "but he will see that you and Winnie suit one another."

Daniel ducked his head. "She has... spoken of me?" he asked.

The sound of musket fire prevented William's response. Several men on horseback were drawing close to the carriage. William stuck his head out the window, shouting, "Steady on!" to the driver.

"Yes, Lord Wil - agh!" the driver cried out as another firearm was shot nearby and he took a musket ball in the stomach.

"Bloody hell," William cursed under his breath, wrapping his scarf tightly around his throat and opening the carriage door. The horses screamed in fright as musket balls whizzed past them.

"William, what are you doing?!" Daniel demanded as he watched his brother prepare to swing himself out of the carriage and into the driver's seat.

"The driver is dead, Daniel, and someone must take the reins!" he returned, heaving himself out the door and upwards onto the wooden bench above the cabin of the carriage. He grappled with the reins of the carriage, staring straight ahead as he guided the horses and urged them to increase their pace.

One of the highwaymen rode in close to the team of horses, pulling out a long, sharp dagger and slicing clean through their harnesses. The unfettered horses bolted while the carriage skidded to a halt. William flew off the bench as the carriage toppled forward, landing on a snow-covered embankment.

"William!" Daniel screamed hoarsely, horrified as he watched the highwaymen approaching his brother.

"Your money," the leader said gruffly, glaring down at William through his one good eye. He was a burly, unwashed man with stringy hair, sporting a wicked-looking scar that sliced clean through his right eye. "Your money or your life, you son of a whore!"

William stood slowly, reaching into his greatcoat and pulling out his purse. The vagrant man snatched it away, opening it and looking through its contents.

"Your coat."

The dark-haired lord of Bradley Manor straightened his back proudly as he shrugged out of his thick, woolen greatcoat. He held the garment out to his assailant, who grabbed it away as well.

The highwayman put on the coat, then tilted his head and looked at William. With an evil grin that revealed yellowed, rotting teeth, he slurred, "Think I'll take your life, too," and buried a dagger in William's gut.

"No!" Angel and Daniel shouted in unison.

The man wearing William's greatcoat leaned in, his breath foul in the younger man's face as he twisted the knife savagely. William, for his part, did not cry out in pain. His countenance remained emotionless and stoic as his attacker released the handle of the knife and stepped away, headed toward the carriage.

Young Lord Bradley raised a hand slowly to his abdomen, and his fingers came away bloody. He cocked his head, looking at his red-stained hand, then down at the dagger that was still embedded several inches deep into his body. Almost in slow motion, his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees. He looked up at Daniel and Angel, who were fighting off two of the highwaymen.

Two other criminals attacked from behind, clubbing Daniel and Angel over the heads with the butts of their muskets. They kicked the unconscious noblemen out of the carriage and hooked up their own horses to the vehicle. Without looking back, they drove away.

William exhaled on a long, shuddering breath. He watched as a dark circle of blood seeped through his clean linen shirt. The dagger stuck out at an odd angle. Blinking twice, he fell backward into the snow, staring up at the clear sky.


	7. Could I Live Without You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?

All was silent in the snowfield. Three men lay prone on the cold ground, unconscious. A horse, its reins sliced, rooted calmly through the snow for grass nearby.

A low groan echoed off snow banks. Daniel slowly sat up, clutching his head, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The world spun around him. He noted that the carriage was gone, and Angel lay unconscious next to him. But where was William...?

His eyes lit on a figure in black trousers and a white shirt, stained deep red. Blood. William.

"Oh, no... No, no..." Daniel scrambled to his feet, adrenaline overcoming the groggy aftereffects of his concussion. "Will!" he shouted, running over to his brother. He fell to his knees, slapping William lightly in the face. "William... don't be dead, please don't be dead..."

_Will was dreaming. That was the only explanation for his sudden appearance in a grassy meadow, surrounded by wildflowers, butterflies, and..._

"You're looking well, William. Handsomer than I remember."

"Dru...?" he asked, unbelieving. "Dru, is it really you?" He tried to get up, but a stab of pain shot through his abdomen and he decided that staying on his back would be a better idea. He winced, clutching the stab wound, and groaned softly.

"It's me, my pet." Drusilla approached him slowly, a small smile on her face.

"I've missed you so much," William whispered. "And I can hardly live with myself, knowing that I could've saved you, had I been faster, or stronger..." He tried to reach for her, but he was so weak that his arms fell uselessly back to his sides. "Dru, what's wrong with me?"

"You're bleeding to death," she said bluntly, her tone gentle. "There's something I want you to do for me."

"Anything, Dru. Just tell me what it is..."

Drusilla looked at him sternly. "Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully. If you don't wake up, you will most certainly die."

"If I die... we can be together, Dru. Forever..." His eyes glowed with happiness at the prospect.

She shook her head. "It isn't your time yet, sweet. Elizabeth mustn't be made a widow today. She needs you. I can wait."

"But Dru - "

"No buts, darling. Look at what you'll be missing if you give in to death..." She pointed off in the distance, where Elizabeth stood, one hand on her very swollen belly, the other in the curly auburn hair of a two-year-old boy who was clinging to her skirts.

"He has a choice, Drusilla," Elizabeth said. "Allow him to make it for himself."

Drusilla turned toward the blonde, who was drifting closer. "He needn't lose his chance to have a family, dearie. I didn't give him children, but you can."

Elizabeth smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. He was very obviously William's son, with his bright blue eyes and tight curls. "I can, if he wants them," she replied.

"You know that he does," the brunette told her. "And I want that for him."

"Aren't I allowed to have a say in this?" Will asked, looking from his first wife to his second, then back again. The little boy ran toward him and they looked at each other for a moment, smiles slowly appearing on both of their faces, before the boy turned and ran back to his mother.

"I'm afraid not," Drusilla replied. "I'd never forgive you if you gave up the opportunity to father some beautiful little babies."

"Drusilla, I miss you! I want - "

"What you **want** is to live a long, healthy life. Then we'll discuss eternity. Wake up," Drusilla said quietly, her attention once again on William. She crouched next to him and brushed a hand over his face. "I **insist** that you awaken. Come now. Wake up." She began to fade from his view. "I will see you again, William. But not yet." Her voice carried on the wind even after she'd disappeared. "Not yet..."

"No, no... Dru... Come back..." He stared at the spot that she'd occupied moments before. The sky in his grassy-meadow dream was darkening. Ominous-looking storm clouds rolled in on the horizon.

"Make your choice, William," Elizabeth said, still standing calmly in the field, though large drops of rain began to fall. Her gown soaked through and her hair fell out of its neat bun with the weight of the water. "Before death makes it for you."

William looked down at the widening stain of blood on his wet shirt. His gaze shot frantically back to her as his eyes widened in agony, pain encompassing his body. His mouth opened, but no sound escaped. He swallowed hard, then spoke. "I've decided..."

Daniel closed William's eyes gently, marveling how warm his brother was, even in death. "Thank you for being my brother," he whispered hollowly. He turned away with a small sob, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

William's eyes opened before he breathed again. He looked around through blurred vision, feeling as if he were swimming underwater as he took in the form of a weeping man. He opened his mouth and took a deep, shuddering breath, then released it on a body-racking cough.

Daniel whirled around to face his brother. "You're alive!" he exclaimed with relief. "I must get the knife out of you, and..."

"Daniel..." William said weakly, his hand reaching for the wound in his abdomen, "... hurts..."

"What happened...?" Angel asked, stumbling over.

"He's been stabbed," Daniel said. "Press down on the wound."

Angel knelt down and placed his hands on either side of William's injury, adding pressure slowly. Daniel winced as he pulled the knife out of his brother. Angel covered the wound with his hand.

Daniel fetched the horse that had returned, and with much effort, he and Angel managed to get William up on its back. Daniel swung up behind his brother. He immediately pressed his fist tightly against the wound, which was now bleeding so freely that his fingers slipped and slid against William's abdomen.

The younger Bradley brother set the horse into a walk. Setting a steady, slow pace so Angel could keep up on foot, they began their journey back to the manor. Five minutes into the ride, another of the carriage horses crossed their path. Angel caught it by the harness and lifted himself onto its back. They traveled more quickly now, but not so quickly that Daniel's hand would come away from William's abdomen.

William's head fell back against his brother's shoulder. His eyes opened for a moment. "You'll take... care of Liz'beth..." he choked before falling unconscious again.

"No, no, no..." Daniel chanted, pressing his hand tighter against the laceration. He dug his knees into his horse's ribs.

Riding at a hard, steady gallop, they were able to arrive at the manor in only minutes. "Open up!" Angel shouted hoarsely to the doorman. The wrought-iron gates swung forward and the riders pressed on, up the long drive.

Elizabeth, who had been gazing forlornly out the window, gasped in horror as she saw the men approaching, saw the blood all over William. She picked up her skirts and ran through the manor, down the stairs, and followed her ears toward the commotion.

At the servants' entrance of the house, Daniel exclaimed, "Somebody help!" He and Angel pulled William from the horse and carried him toward the manor. One by one, the doors swung open before them as word was spread of William's injury.

They reached the kitchen, laying him down on the hastily cleared table. Daniel opened his brother's shirt, then pressed down on the wound again. William was pale, his lips chapped and his skin clammy. His eyes opened slightly as his head lolled back and forth on the hard surface he was resting on.

Margaret shook her head, approaching with a poker from the fireplace. Its tip glowed orange with heat.

"Help me hold him down," Daniel said, glancing in Angel's direction. "William..."

The injured man groaned in response, his eyelids fluttering. "Dan... Daniel...?"

"William, we are going to burn your wound. You're bleeding too much for mere bindings to help you." Daniel released the injury, holding down William's shoulders.

Angel put his full weight on his cousin's legs. He nodded at Margaret.

The hot poker made contact with William's skin and, with a burst of strength that had come seemingly out of nowhere, his body bowed off the table. His cousin and brother struggled to hold him down. He roared in pain as Margaret counted to three and the poker was pulled away. Daniel and Angel released him quickly. The skin was blackened all around the wound, but the bleeding had been staunched.

Elizabeth ran into the kitchen. "What happened?" she demanded, taking in her husband's appearance. She hurried forward, taking one of his hands in hers and squeezing it gently.

"Liz'beth...?" William mumbled quietly, his eyes opening a bit. "S'you..."

"It's me..." the blonde replied softly, her concerned gaze tracing the contours of his face. "Everything's going to be alright, Will," she soothed.

Margaret laid a thick pad of sheeting over the wound and gave Daniel a few strips of linen with which to wrap it. He tied the sheeting to William's abdomen as he spoke. "We had ridden but a few miles when we were attacked by highwaymen," he said. "After the driver was shot, William took the reins. They cut the harnesses of the horses, and he fell... and then the leader took his greatcoat and stabbed him."

"Oh, God..." Elizabeth gasped. She caressed William's damp forehead with the tips of her fingers. "Will he live?" she asked.

"It is too soon to tell," Daniel said.

* * *

  
The novel was obviously defective. Normally, reading would've calmed Elizabeth, but today was an exception. Her eyes were drawn to her husband. Every few minutes she'd approach the bed, just to make sure he was still breathing.

She turned the page, frustrated, attempting to become engrossed in her reading. When she'd read the same line four times, she sighed and closed the book, setting it on the bench next to her.

He filled her head. Images came unbidden to her. William, gentle and patient with her on her second night in the manor. William, his face open and vulnerable as he told her of his late first wife. William, staring into her eyes as he held her close and rocked with her in their bed. William, William, William...

She stood again, tiptoeing over to the side of the bed. Her hand traced the contours of his face, though her skin never came in contact with his.

William's eyes opened slowly. He stared at her for a long moment. "Liz'beth?" he slurred raspily.

"You're awake," Elizabeth murmured. She brushed her fingers over his cheek, smiling slightly when he leaned into her touch.

"Thirsty..." he said weakly.

She stepped away from the bed, pouring a glass of water from the carafe that stood on a low table against the wall. She then set it on the nightstand, pulling him up slightly. He leaned heavily against her breasts as she sat down and leaned against the headboard. Tilting his head up, she grasped the glass and brought it to his dry lips.

He drank greedily, a few drops spilling out at the edges of his mouth. When he pulled away, Elizabeth set the glass back down and wiped at his mouth with her fingertip. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "Like I was stabbed in the gut with a dagger," he replied, "and then burned with a hot poker."

"There was a lot of blood," she said quietly. "Daniel and Angel have said that if you do not remain in bed for at least the entirety of tomorrow, they will tie you down so you stay put."

"They took my money. And the carriage," he told her, his brow furrowing as he became slightly agitated.

"Shh..." Elizabeth soothed, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face. "Shh... it's alright. You're alive, and there are plenty of carriages..."

"I'm sorry I've brought this strain upon you," he said contritely. "I wish things would've gone differently..."

She rubbed his shoulder soothingly. "If things had gone differently, Will, you could very well be dead right now. You'll feel better soon, you'll see..."

William nuzzled his cheek against her breasts, yawning. "I'm exhausted..." he mumbled.

"Sleep then. And get better," she said, moving to leave the bed.

"No..." he protested, wrapping an arm loosely around her. "Stay... you're warm..."

"But your wound - " Elizabeth started to protest.

"I will hold you," he said, "and damn my wound."

"Let me get out of my corset," she said. "I've slept in one before, and it's dreadfully uncomfortable..."

"Mm..." he said, releasing her.

She made sure he was resting comfortably before unfastening her gown and stepping out of it, then unlacing her corset. Clad in her shift, she approached the bed, slipping under the covers.

William pulled her close, despite the pain in his abdomen, and snuggled against her. It was a matter of moments before he had fallen asleep once more.

Elizabeth gazed at the slumbering countenance of her husband, resting against her shoulder. She stroked his hair absently.

"You almost died today. It forced me to think a lot about myself, about you... about us. Could I live without you, William?" she asked her sleeping husband softly.

"Liz'beth..." he mumbled in his sleep. "Gotta stay with Liz'beth... for the babies..."

She smiled. "I don't think I could," she whispered. She kissed his forehead, then drew back. "Babies?"

* * *

  
Late that night, Elizabeth awoke to see William moaning and thrashing on the bed. A quick touch to his forehead alerted her to the fact that he had a high fever. "Oh, God, what do I do, what do I do..." she muttered to herself. She climbed from the bed, immediately stricken when he whimpered plaintively.

Throwing on her robe and stepping into her slippers, she dashed from the room, running to the east wing. "Daniel!" she cried, "Daniel, where are you?"

Her brother in law opened his door, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "What is it?" he asked, tying the sash of his bed robe around his waist.

"It's Will," she gasped. "He's... ill. I think it's the wound, or perhaps he caught a chill, or... You must help him... please..."

"I knew something like this would happen," Daniel muttered, running with toward the master suite.

William had curled into a fetal position on the bed, and was now shaking with cold despite the thick featherbed and warm sheeting that covered him. His face was pale and beads of sweat had popped up on his brow.

Daniel moved toward the bed, feeling the dark-haired man's forehead. He swore under his breath, feeling the temperature of his brother's brow. "This is most certainly not good," he said to himself.

"Cold..." the dark-haired man mumbled in sleep, his teeth chattering. "So... cold..."

Elizabeth arrived with a male servant, his arms laden with blankets. "Cover him up with them," she said to the servant.

One by one, thick woolen blankets were draped over the lord of the manor. When there was a mound of heavy covers draped over William, the servant stepped back.

Still, William moaned and shivered.

"What if you get under the blankets with him?" Daniel suggested. "The extra body heat might - " He cut off when he saw Elizabeth shrug out of her robe and crawl beneath the mountain of bedding, curling up against her husband.

William, still asleep, instinctively pressed as close as he could to her, still shaking with cold when she wrapped her arms around him. He nuzzled into her throat and whimpered again, tangling his legs with hers.

Elizabeth stroked his hair gently, cooing soothingly and kissing his temple. She looked up at her brother-in-law, a hint of desperation in her eyes. "He has to get better, Daniel," she whispered. "He just _has_ to. I love him."


	8. He Loves Me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?

William slept for the entirety of the next day, while the fever raged within him. For thirty-six hours, Elizabeth watched over him, changing the bindings on his wound and bathing the sweat from his body. Several times, she cradled him close and fed him a thin broth, afraid he would starve during his illness. And when at last his eyes opened and he smiled tenderly and cupped her cheek, she collapsed in an unladylike heap on the bed beside him. It was her turn to sleep.

Elizabeth awakened several hours later, still weary but feeling quite refreshed. William was propped up on a few pillows, looking down at her, a tiny smile on his face. "I watched you sleep," he informed her. "You snore."

"I most certainly do not!" she gasped, pretending to be scandalized. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing."

"Very well," William conceded, "you sleep like a silent angel."

"How are you feeling?" she asked him. "Your wound, does it pain you much?"

"No more than it should," he said, wincing as it pulled when he shifted slightly.

"I forbid you to be stabbed again," Elizabeth said. She moved closer to him. "You nearly died." She leaned her head on his chest, minding his injury carefully, and listened to his steady, strong heartbeat.

He draped an arm over her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. "You watched over me, though, didn't you?" he asked. "I was safe."

She turned and buried her face in his chest. "Will, I was so frightened," she admitted, sniffling a bit. "I do not think that I could have abided it if you'd died."

He caught her under the cheek with his thumb, lifting her face so he could look at her. "I didn't die, Elizabeth. I've got you to thank for that. Now come up here so that I can kiss you."

Elizabeth moved up the bed, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment before tilting her face toward his and kissing him softly. He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek as he sipped at her lips, his eyes closed contentedly.

When they drew back, breathing shakily, he said, "I missed the taste of your mouth." He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips, quirking a brow when she bit down on it lightly. "Minx," he chuckled, kissing her again.

* * *

  
"Have you told him?"

Elizabeth dropped her book, startled. She clasped a hand to her chest, glaring at the newcomer. "Must you always frighten me so, Daniel?"

"It's a habit," the redheaded man said, taking a seat opposite her by the fire. "Have you told him?"

"No, I haven't," she said.

"You should," Daniel said. "He has the right to know."

"I am afraid," Elizabeth admitted.

He leaned forward on his elbows, looking at her concernedly. "What is there to be afraid of?" he asked.

"When I first came to the manor, Will told me that he could offer me nothing more than his friendship," she said. She fiddled with her necklace as she continued. "He's told me that again and again, yet I stupidly fell in love with him."

"You cannot control who you fall in love with, Elizabeth," Daniel said consolingly. "In my experience, only love could get you two through all the troubles you've had. I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not paying attention. If it's not love, then I don't know my brother as well as I thought I did."

She hesitated. "If I tell him..." she said, fidgeting slightly and looking away.

Daniel smiled. "If you tell him, my brother will come back to life."

* * *

  
It had been three weeks, now, since Daniel had urged Elizabeth to admit her true feelings to her husband. Three weeks, and she had yet to tell him. Tonight, she told herself. She would tell him tonight.

William strode into her room then, fixing his gaze on her. He'd healed remarkably well, and only a puckered, pink scar remained on his abdomen where he'd been stabbed. He stood before her, offering his hand. "Will you come to me?" he asked. "I've missed you these last few weeks."

"I don't wish to cause you pain," she said, taking his hand and standing. "Are you certain that you're - "

"Elizabeth," he interjected, "I am healed well enough to have you in my bed. Come."

Instead of following him to his room as he'd expected her to, she pulled him toward her own bed, keeping her eyes on his. She pushed him down onto the edge of the bed, then straddled his lap carefully, her skirts hiking up to her knees. "Well, milord," she said, "it seems that I have you in an interesting position."

"Indeed you do," he said with a laugh. "What do you plan to do with me, now that you have me?"

Elizabeth pretended to contemplate her answer for a long moment. "I suppose I must kiss the breath from you," she said finally, leaning in to capture his lips with hers.

William groaned softly into her mouth, kissing her back fervently. His hands found the back laces of her gown while hers found his shoulders. With eager fingers, he unlaced her gown, then her corset, pushing both aside.

"It's been too long," he murmured, pulling her gown down her shoulders and kissing the skin he bared. He held the gown for her while she slipped her arms from the sleeves, then pulled away her corset and tossed it to the floor, his hands smoothing down her shift-covered back. "I can hardly wait to see all of you," he said.

"Nor I you," Elizabeth returned, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. She tugged at it until it came free of the waistband of his trousers, then pulled it upward. Her thighs tightened about his as he released her to lift his arms over his head, allowing her to strip the garment from him. The shirt landed on the floor and her hands flattened against his chest, gliding downwards.

Her fingernails scratched lightly over the rippled muscles of his abdomen, carefully avoiding the raised, puckered scar that the highwayman's dagger had left. "I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful you are," she said softly, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him again.

His fingers curled about her waist as he returned her kiss. "Elizabeth," he whispered, lifting her up and setting her on her feet. "Your lightest touch - " he trailed his hand down her arm, " - and I'm sorely tried." He stood then, unfastening his trousers and pushing her skirts down so that they landed in a heap at her feet. He helped her to step out of them, then knelt and slipped off her soft-soled shoes.

"You are so very lovely," he said as he rose, catching the hem of her shift and pulling it up over her head. His fingers followed the groove of her spine downward, pulling her to him. He took her mouth in a sweetly passionate kiss, then stepped away.

Elizabeth climbed onto the bed, lying back against the pillows with her knees resting modestly together and watched him through heated eyes as he pulled off his boots and removed his trousers. He knelt on the end of the bed then, going down on all fours and crawling toward her.

His approach faltered when his still-tender wound gave a warning twinge. He grimaced in pain and clutched the scar, then looked at her apologetically and moved up to the head of the bed, lying down on his back next to her. He reached for her and she came to him, straddling his thighs and bracing her hands on his chest.

 _I love you,_ her eyes said as he positioned his shaft at her dewy entrance and she sank slowly down onto him. _I love you,_ her body said as she began to rock against him. _I love you,_ her hands said as they smoothed over his shoulders and she leaned down to kiss him.

He thrust up into her carefully, trying not to injure himself further, clutching at her hips and groaning. He fondled her breasts with one hand, rolling her pebbled nipples between his thumb and forefinger. "So lovely," he said again, arching his neck and watching her rise and fall on him. "The way you feel..."

"It's you," Elizabeth replied breathily. "Your hands..." She lifted his hand from her breast and brought it to her mouth, kissing the tips of his fingers. "Your body... Nothing else could make me feel this way..."

William's breath hitched and he stared up at her. He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek, then trailed his hand down her body to the apex of her thighs, rubbing slowly. "Come for me," he ground out, trying desperately to stave off his own climax long enough to feel her quaking around him. "I want to see your face, glowing with the pleasure that I gave you..."

"Will," she moaned, arching her back. She leaned into his caressing fingers, crying out softly. "Will," she repeated as her eyes opened and she stared blindly at him, her lips parting on a silent moan as her climax hit her forcefully. Her body arched and bowed, her nails dug into his shoulders, her slick inner walls clenched around him, and his name tumbled from her lips a third time.

He thrust hard up into her then, letting go and releasing a milky-white flood of warmth within her depths. "Elizabeth," he groaned raspily, grinding the back of his head into the pillows and closing his eyes.

Hearing his groans echoing her own, Elizabeth could not contain the words any longer. "I love you," her entire being said as she shuddered above him, holding herself upright for a short moment longer before her arms gave out and she collapsed against his chest. She rested atop him, listening to the racing of his heart and his heavy breathing.

His hands tangled in her hair as he panted and came down from his explosive climax. His eyes remained closed, his pulse thudding in his ears. They snapped open, however, when her words came back to him. _I love you..._

She lifted her head, noticing his tension. "What is it?"

William sat up slowly, lifting her up and pulling out of her, then rolled off to the side and got out of the bed. He reached for his trousers and put them on, keeping his back to his wife.

"Will?" Elizabeth asked vulnerably. Her face was awash with confusion.

"I cannot give you what you want, Elizabeth," he said, tucking in his shirt. Still, he didn't face her.

She stood, flung on her bed robe, and walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. Her brow furrowed when he flinched at her touch. "What do you mean?" she asked, returning her hand to her side.

"I know what you said to me," he said. He straightened his hair, re-tying it. "I cannot reciprocate your feelings, and you _know_ that."

"Why not?" she walked around him, placing her hands on her hips. "She has been dead for _seven years_. She'd want you to move on."

William flinched again, averting his eyes. "I will not allow myself to fall again, Elizabeth. Nothing is worth that much pain."

She was silent for a moment, rubbing a hand over her eyes tiredly. "I can't... do this anymore, William." A saddened expression crept over her features. "I want a man who can reciprocate my feelings. Not a dead shell."

Her words cut him deeply, despite the languor from their recent pleasure that still controlled his movements. "You don't mean that," he said quietly.

"I do," she replied. "I will go to London, and stay with my mother and father. Friendship alone cannot hold together a marriage which is otherwise as passionate as ours."

"I forbid it!" William exclaimed. "You will _not_ leave me. Not like all the others."

"You would... you would _force_ me to stay here?" she asked, her eyes widening, and the fierceness in his eyes softened to quiet desperation.

"Stay with me, Elizabeth," he pleaded.

"Unless you tell me that you love me, you cannot stop me from leaving you," she said. "I _know_ you love me. It's clear on your face. How else could I hurt you so badly?"

"I cannot love anyone," he whispered.

"Then I go to London on the morrow to find someone who can," Elizabeth said, turning away from him.

He caught her by the arm, whirling her around to face him. "No other man's touch will ever inflame you the way mine does!" he said, his eyes glowing with a fierce possessiveness.

She slapped him with her free hand. "Let _go_ of me, William." She wrenched her arm free of his grip. "Arrogant pig. Get out of my sight," she spat.

* * *

  
Her closet was nearly empty. It was early evening, her bedroom glowed with the light of dozens of candles, and her eyes shone with remorse. Several times, she had to stop packing in order to wipe at the stubborn tears that continued to trickle down her cheeks, sniffling and attempting to compose herself.

William stopped short in the doorway, watching his wife sort her gowns before packing them away. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed convulsively to get rid of it. His eyes burned with the need to moisten themselves as he stared unblinkingly at Elizabeth, his mouth opening and closing as he considered what to say to her.

He stepped forward then, picking up several of her gowns and carrying them back to her closet, where he hung them up neatly. He returned to the bed, gathering more gowns, and brought them to the closet, only to find Elizabeth calmly pulling out the garments he'd just put away. His chest felt tight and the lump was back in his throat, larger than before.

"You don't need to leave," he said finally. "I'm sorry I shouted at you."

Elizabeth continued packing. "Unless you're here to tell me the truth about your feelings..." she said, folding a gown and stuffing it into the trunk at the foot of her bed.

He watched her mutely, the need to sink to his knees and beg her not to go nearly overwhelming him. He managed a quiet, "Don't go... don't leave me..." before the cursed lump in his throat rendered him unable to speak.

She stopped packing for a moment, turning to him and wiping her tears on the backs of her hand with a tiny sniffle. "Do you love me, William?" she asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. A myriad of emotion crossed his features, settling on a broken expression. He closed his eyes.

"Then I'm sorry, William. I leave for London first thing tomorrow morning." She turned back to her trunks.

The next morning, she felt his eyes on her as the carriage rolled down the drive. His left hand pressed against the windowpane, his breath fogging the glass as he watched his wife leave him. A single, fat tear rolled down his cheek.


	9. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?

The wedding of Winnie Winterton and Daniel Bradley was to be a grand affair, held at the Bradley estate in mid-June. Elizabeth hoped that she would become too ill to make the trip. She knew it was childish and selfish to want to avoid William, but she couldn't help it. Facing him after months apart would mean uncovering pain that was still fresh.

"What do you think of this color?" Winnie asked, holding an ivory silk gown up to her and dancing around slightly.

"It's lovely," Elizabeth replied noncommittally, still brooding.

The redhead tossed the gown aside and plopped gracelessly down next to her sister on her bed. "You've said that about every gown I've shown you," she said. "Surely there is a garment in the lot that's more than lovely. The white satin and lace with the full bodice, perhaps?"

"Yes, that one was quite nice," the blonde replied.

Winnie frowned. "There _is_ no white satin and lace gown with a full bodice, Liz'beth," she said. She took her sister's hands in hers. "What is bothering you?"

"It's nothing," Elizabeth said, averting her eyes.

"Elizabeth Anne," the younger woman said sternly, "you know that you cannot keep secrets from me. Tell me what's troubling you. Is it William?"

Elizabeth flinched.

"You never told me what happened," Winnie said, looking concernedly at her sister. "Why did you come back?"

"It doesn't matter," the blonde insisted, pulling her hands from her sister's grasp. She stood and moved to the pile of gowns, looking through them absently.

"It does," the younger woman said. "You're brokenhearted, Elizabeth. It's so clear when I look at you. What did he do to you?"

Silk wrinkled beneath her hands as they clenched tightly. "He didn't love me," Elizabeth whispered.

"Did he tell you that?" Winnie walked around to face her older sister, tilting her head slightly and frowning a bit at her.

Elizabeth gave a tiny sigh. "He said that he couldn't love anyone. Not after what happened with Drusilla."

"But that was so long ago," the redhead said.

The elder of the two sisters laughed bitterly. "I know."

After awhile, Winnie spoke again. "I do so wish that you and William were still - "

"But we're not," Elizabeth interjected shortly.

"The manor will be dreadfully empty without you..."

The blonde wrapped her arms about herself silently. She would've cried, but her tears had dried up long ago.

A ruckus outside caught her attention then, so she crossed the room, stopping before the window and threw the curtains aside. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight below her on the street.

* * *

  
William ran a hand through his short curls as he dismounted Black Lightning and handed the reins to a stable hand. He'd visited the spot in the meadow where his entire being had shattered, sat in the same place until dusk had begun to creep onto the countryside. After seven years, he was finally ready to let go.

He patted his stallion's neck once, then his muzzle, receiving an affectionate head butt from the horse, who snorted softly and docilely allowed himself to be led away by the stable boy. Then, pulling a silver flask from inside his waistcoat, he took a long swig, staggering slightly as he screwed the lid back on and headed for the manor. He swung the servant's entrance wide, stumbling through the house and up the stairs, headed for the master suite. "Liz'beth!" he slurred drunkenly. "I'm home! Did you miss me?"

Upon entering his wife's room, he flung his coat down on the bed. His face crumpled and he slumped to his knees. "Why'd you do it, Liz'beth?" he sobbed. "Why'd you leave me?"

"Because you're a stupid, drunken lout." Angel stood in the doorway, a look of pity on his face as he took in the sight of his once-noble cousin, weeping on the floor. "Willie, m'boy, it's time for someone t' step in an' knock some sense into ye." He stepped forward. "An' since I'm the only one bigger'n you, I'm just the man to do it. Come on, up with ye now."

William stared at his cousin for a moment, dazedly, before getting slowly to his feet.

Angel immediately took the shorter man by the arm, leading him out of the Lady's bedchamber at a brisk pace. "Let's go, let's go. Time's a'wastin'!"

"Where are we going?" William asked, stumbling along beside Angel.

"Not tellin' until we get there," the Irishman replied. _You'd end up tryin' to fight me off_ , he thought, his mind on the tub of cold water that stood waiting in the garden.

"Alright," Lord Bradley said, smiling trustingly.

Five minutes later, Will was drenched from the waist up, fuming, and completely sober. "Enough!" he shouted, shoving away from Angel and shaking convulsively to rid his clothes of some of the water. "How dare y - "

Angel clamped his hand over his belligerent cousin's mouth, staunching the stream of curses. "Willie," he said in a low tone, "you've made an arse of yourself an' the Bradley name for th' last three months. Now shut your mouth an' keep hold of the last shreds 'f your dignity." He lowered his hand. "You should get into some dry clothes."

William shot Angel a scathing look but trudged back inside, waterlogged and clearheaded. His clothes dripped over the wood floors of the manor as they ascended the stairs and headed for the master suite.

"Will! You're soaking wet!" Daniel said as he approached from the opposite direction. "Did you fall into the pond?" Upon closer inspection, he realized that his brother was only wet from just above the waistband of his trousers to the top of his short-shorn curls. The younger Bradley brother looked at Angel. "You dunked him, didn't you?"

Angel shrugged. "He was soused," he said in explanation. "Again."

William glared at the taller man. "There are gentler ways of sobering a man up," he said.

The Irishman rolled his eyes. "When th' man who you're soberin' up has been drunk for three months, you don't 'ave time for gentle."

A violent shiver ran through Lord Bradley, stopping him from remarking rudely. "I think, perhaps," he said, "that I should dry myself before I catch my death of cold."

Daniel and Angel nodded. The red-haired man turned to his cousin. "Angel, I wish you luck. You will probably need it."

"Luck?" Angel laughed. "Nah. If he acts up, I'll box 'is ears. Come on, Willie."

The two dark-haired men continued toward the master suite. Once inside, William stripped off his wet shirt and flung it at Angel. It hit the larger man's chest with a loud slap.

"Now, was that really necessary?" Angel asked, holding the dripping garment between his thumb and forefinger before going to a window, opening it, and wringing the shirt out.

"I believe it was," William replied, picking up a piece of toweling. He dried his hair vigorously, then his face, then rubbed his arms and torso until they were water-free. The toweling dropped to the floor beside his closet. He pulled out a fresh shirt in gentlemen's white, then put it on and fastened it in the front. "Is there any reason for your rude awakening?" he asked then.

"As a matter 'f fact, yes," Angel said. "You were wastin' away. Drunk all th' time, weepin' like a babe about your wives leavin' you, instead of goin' to London an' apologizin' to Liz'beth."

Lord Bradley's chest constricted and his face threatened to crumple. "I drink because it dulls the pain and loneliness," he said quietly. "She didn't have to leave me, you know."

"Why did she?" Angel leaned against one of the bedposts, looking at his cousin concernedly.

"We had a quarrel," William said. "She told me she loved me, and... and I was frightened. She lashed out. Told me that I was an empty shell, and that she wanted more than that... that she was going to London to find it." His brow furrowed as he continued. "She said she'd take a lover..." He broke off on a small sob, pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes to stifle his tears.

"Do you love 'er, William?"

"Yes," he replied. "And if I continue to live without her..."

"Pack your things." Angel strode to the closet, pulling out several shirts and a few pairs of trousers, then tossed them on the bed.

"What?" William asked.

"If you love Liz'beth, go to 'er. Ride to London an' tell that pretty wife 'f yours what she means to you."

"But it's late..."

"An' the road is long. You'll make it there by late morn'. He rolled William's clothes up in a neat pack, tying it off with a belt. "Here. Take this - " he pressed the pack into William's arms, " - an' go to her." Angel pushed his stunned cousin toward the door, leading him outside once more toward the stables. He snapped his fingers and the stableman, who he'd told of his plans of intervention, led a rested, clean, and saddled Black Lightning out of his stall.

William gaped at Angel. "You planned this, didn't you?" he asked.

"Ask me again when you've got your wife back," the Irishman replied. "Get on, then." He took the pack from William and tied it to the back of Black Lightning's saddle while the lord of the manor climbed atop the horse.

"Angel - "

"Ride like the wind, Willie," he said, slapping Black Lightning's flanks. The stallion took off at a gallop, with William clutching the reins and saddle horn, and raced through the open doors of the stable toward the road. "God willin', it's not too late."

William rode through the night and the early morning to London, finally arriving in front of the Winterton townhouse at ten-fifteen. He was tired, he was sore, but he would _not_ collapse from exhaustion until he saw Elizabeth and begged her forgiveness. Gingerly, he got down from Black Lightning's back, leading the horse to the front gate. He looped the reins around the gatepost, tying his horse there for the moment, then stepped through the gate, striding up the walkway and rapping vigorously on the front door with the brass knocker.

Harrington opened the door. "Sir?" he asked, looking over the nobleman, who was covered in dust from the ride, and whose one-day's growth of beard made him look like a criminal.

"Is my wife here?" William asked.

Harrington hesitated before replying. "I've had orders not to allow you inside this house, sir. I'm sorry."

William snapped. "Damn it, man! My wife is in there. Let me in!" he shouted.

The butler didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry, sir," he said again, closing the door.

William stared at the door for a moment, in shock, before staggering backwards down the walkway. He turned to leave, but thought better of it, whirled around, took a deep breath, and screamed hoarsely, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth, let me in! Please!"

A movement at one of the windows caught his eye, and he ran over to that area of the building. "Elizabeth!" he shouted again as she opened the window. "I love you! Please, please, let me in!" He was breathing hard, staring up at his wife, begging her with his eyes to reply.

Tears glistened in Elizabeth's eyes. "Say it again, and I shall tell Harrington to show you inside," she called.

A brilliant smile burst over William's features as his own tears began to fall. "I love you," he repeated, more quietly this time.

Moments later, the front door opened. Harrington stepped aside as William ran into the house, calling his wife's name.

"Will!" the blonde cried, hurrying out into the hallway. "I'm here!"

"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed again, taking the stairs three at a time. He ran down the hall to where his wife stood waiting with open arms, collapsing onto his knees at her feet and pressing his face against her belly. Her skirts muffled his sobs of joy as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, vowing to himself never to let her go again.

Elizabeth stroked his hair, holding him to her. When he got to his feet again, he lifted her up, kissing her desperately. "I love you," she murmured against his lips before the kiss deepened.

The kisses tasted of their tears. William pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered. "Forgive me, my beautiful, beautiful darling... I'd forgotten how to love..."

"I forgave you the moment you came for me," she replied, kissing his cheek, the corner of his lips.

"Come home with me," he beseeched, stepping away slightly to run his hands up and down her arms.

She reached up and wiped his tears away with her thumbs. "With you, I'm always home," she said.

 

 

 

**EPILOGUE**

Shrieking with laughter, three-year-old John Bradley raced through the meadow with his father close behind him. The breeze rumpled the young boy's mop of auburn hair as he tore across the grassland to the shaded area where his mother rested on their picnic blanket.

"You won't catch me, Papa!" he shouted, running as fast as his little legs would carry him. "I'm the fastest boy in all the land!"

Moments later, John was caught up in his father's arms. Laughing, William spun his son around and tossed him in the air, catching him as he squealed and giggled and kicked his feet. "It's time for the fastest boy in the land to eat his luncheon," he said, grinning at John. "And then we'll go exploring."

John ran over to his mother, giving her a hug and a wet little boy kiss. "Is the baby sleeping, Mummy?" he asked, placing one hand on her swollen belly.

Elizabeth ruffled John's hair, kissing his temple. "Yes, the baby's asleep, sweetheart," she said. "Though, with the amount of noise you and your father were making, the baby could wake up any minute." She placed a hand over John's as he stared down at her lightly protruding belly in fascination. "Only a few more months, and you'll have a little brother or sister."

"And we'll name the baby 'Buttercup'!" John exclaimed. He bounded off again, but returned quickly and sat down on the blanket beneath the trees.

"Have you been telling our son stories, again, Elizabeth?" William asked as he unpacked the food that Margaret had prepared.

She looked at him innocently, with wide eyes. "I'd never do such a thing," she said. "Come sit by me, Will."

Lord Bradley reclined on the blanket next to his wife, kissing her softly. "I love you," he said, kissing her again before moving down to rest his head on her belly.

John made a face. "You're always kissing," he said.

"One day you might like kissing, too," Elizabeth replied.

"Do you have to do it all the time?" the auburn-haired boy asked.

William launched himself at his son then, grabbing him and tickling him mercilessly. "John," he said after a moment, still tickling the boy, "when you find a lady who is as nice, and as pretty as your Mum is, you won't mind the kissing bits at all."

"Stop, stop!" John squealed. "Papa, don't!" He giggled uproariously, squirming away from his father's hands.

William stopped.

"Alright, I don't mind if you kiss Mummy," John said after awhile. He looked down at his feet; a mischievous grin spread across his face, then he tackled William, causing him to fall over onto his back. Father and son laughed, tickled, and hugged, while Elizabeth watched in amusement.

"I hope you're a girl," she said to her pregnant belly. "Your Papa and brother are handfuls."

"Mummy, can we listen to the baby?" John asked, crouching down next to her.

She looked from one side to the other. William sat to her right. He reached out and cupped her face, and she mouthed 'I love you' before turning to John, seated on her opposite side. "Of course you can listen to the baby," she said.

Immediately, two heads, covered in soft curls, rested against her abdomen. She leaned back against the pillows that they'd brought with them. "They're handfuls," she said to her unborn child, tangling her fingers in her husband's and son's hair, "but they're my handfuls."

**END**


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